


Our History is Before Us

by The_Last_Pass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Good Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Post-War, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Last_Pass/pseuds/The_Last_Pass
Summary: After the war Hermione goes back to Hogwarts to finish her education but an accident with McGonagall's Time Turner sees her sent back to 1969. The people that she meets and the relationships that she builds make her believe that maybe fate does have a plan for us all.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 58
Kudos: 386
Collections: Time Travel Bellamione





	1. A new perspective

**Author's Note:**

> This is the re-posting and slight editing of a story I have posted on Fanfiction.net

A chilly September breeze whistled through the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Hermione Granger wandered through them, making her way to nowhere in particular. She couldn’t stop herself from scanning the sandstone walls looking for scars left behind by the battle that had raged within the building only months before. She had spent the last few months working alongside Minerva Mcgonagall rebuilding Hogwarts to her former glory. Once the reconstruction was complete most other people had rushed away from the castle, eager to distance themselves from the horrors they had encountered there during the war with Lord Voldemort. Even her own best friend Harry Potter and boyfriend Ron Weasley couldn’t wait to leave, desperate to get their careers as Aurors started. For Hermione Hogwarts was the only place she could imagine being, the brunette felt as though she had unfinished business with the old building. She was sure that if she changed her mind she could walk into any job at the ministry that she wanted, her reputation as the brains of the Golden Trio preceded her. But Hermione had always treasured her education and knew that were she to leave it unfinished she would spend the rest of her life regretting it.

Although Hermione had been at Hogwarts for months the other students had only returned yesterday with classes due to begin tomorrow. The halls were filled with cheerful chatter once again, the Great Hall was rammed with bodies and the first years were scampering around getting themselves acquainted with the enchanted castle. During her first time at Hogwarts Hermione was used to wandering these halls and being ignored, she had never been the main attraction while Harry was around. But now that she was the only remaining member of the Golden Trio she could feel eyes on her everywhere and hear whispers around every corner. Right now for example she could sense the small group of first year Ravenclaws following her. The four girls had excitedly squeaked as she rounded the corner and they caught sight of her. Hermione had tried to lose them by picking up her pace and taking various random turns, but they seemed determined to stick at her heels whispering and giggling. The brunette witch thought that perhaps if she found somewhere to sit in the courtyard and read her book the first years might eventually get bored and leave her to her own thoughts.

“Hi Hermione” An excited voice called as she stepped outside into the crisp air. She turned to look for the source of the voice, finding a 4th or 5th year Hufflepuff boy she didn’t recognise looking at her expectantly.

“Erm…Hi” Hermione replied tentatively with a weak smile, trying to figure out if she had ever encountered the younger boy before. “How’re you?”

“I..I’m good thank you.” The boy stuttered excitedly almost tripping over in his excitement to get a step closer towards her. “Are you ok?”

Hermione used all of her strength to contain her sigh as she realised she did not know this boy at all, he was just another person hassling her because she was ‘famous’ now. “Just fine thank you.” She offered curtly before turning away from him and making her way over to one of the benches on the other side of the courtyard. The four Ravenclaw girls rushed over to the young man, even from this distance their excited chatter made its way to Hermione.

“Do you know her?” one of the girls asked in an annoyingly high pitched voice.

The Hufflepuff boy threw the girls a cocky smile. “I’ve seen her around the castle. When she was here, you know…before.”

Another of the girls gasped before enthusiastically asking the boy. “Can you believe she spoke to you?”

“Maybe she’d talk to us if we went over to her.” The annoying voiced girl said in an excited tone and all four girls huddled together and began chatting animatedly.

All of this new attention unnerved Hermione greatly; she just wanted to sit her NEWTs and be left in peace. She had done her bit for the wizarding world, she had given up a year of her life. She had spent months living out of a tent. She had been tortured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She had wiped her parent’s memories. Was being left alone really too much to ask for? All of the eyes on her just served as a constant reminder that, although Voldemort was gone, nothing was ever going to be like it was. Hermione made a spur of the moment decision to make her escape from the courtyard now before the Ravenclaw girls plucked up enough courage to actually come over to her. Hermione quietly stood up and headed to the one place she knew would be empty.

Quickly she made her way across Hogwarts’ grounds, treading a path she had walked many times over the last few months. A sense of utter relief crept into Hermione’s bones as she jogged up the last few steps to the owlery and slipped through the doorway. She made her way to the back of the round room and hauled herself up on to her usual windowsill, peering through the glass at the sweeping landscape that surrounded the building. The Owelry had become her sanctuary as the months had passed; the soft hooting of the owls, rustling of feathers and haunting whisper of the wind calmed her mind in a way that nothing else could. As the summer had crept by she had begun to feel suffocated by her relationship with Ron and had sought out a place where she could just be. They had spent every single day together for months as they worked tirelessly to return Hogwarts to the beautiful building they all loved. Hermione had been excited to begin with, happy to have someone next to her at night to chase away the nightmares and relieved to have a loving family in the Weasley’s after losing her parents. But as weeks became months Ron’s constant closeness to her had started to frustrate her to no end. His hand was too clammy as he kept it permanently clasped around her own. He took up too much of the bed; always encroaching on Hermione’s side until she almost fell out every time that she moved. He always wanted to kiss her when she was in the middle of something and looked like a puppy that had been kicked when she didn’t respond with the fervour he was expecting. He didn’t understand the way that she felt about things, being entirely unable to get his mind around why the brunette would want to remain at Hogwarts when the new term started. Ron wanted her to get a job in the ministry with him and for them to rent a flat in wizarding London, to get their lives together started as soon as possible. But Hermione had spent too much of her life beholden to somebody else’s plan and somebody else’s expectations of her. She wanted to do something for herself. She and Ron were not suited to one another and Hermione had begun to believe that their relationship may have all just been a kneejerk reaction to the confusion that surrounded the Battle of Hogwarts. She had wanted so desperately to feel grounded and to feel like she had some degree of control over just one element of her life and by kissing Ron she had taken that control. If she was brutally honest with herself she hadn’t expected to survive the battle so hadn’t expected to have to deal with the consequences of the kiss.

As Hermione traced the Hogwart’s Express track with her eyes until it disappeared behind the towering hills she prayed to whoever was listening that her feelings would change now that she had some time away from Ron. Now that she wasn’t with him 24/7 she hoped some of the excitement she had originally felt might return, because the thought of what would be left if they were to not work out terrified her. Ron had been her best friend and she knew they could not go back to that after they had been so intimate with each other. She was also acutely aware of the fact that it did not just affect the two of them; it would force Harry and Ginny to have to sit squarely in the middle of them and that was not a position she was prepared to put her best friends into.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the tears sting, trying desperately not to let them fall. She knew that if she started now she would never stop. Taking deep gulps of the cold air she managed to compose herself just as she heard footsteps tapping up the staircase leading to the owlery. Her sanctuary had been invaded. She turned her head to the side, looking at the doorway, ready to face her intruder head on. Hermione couldn’t help the smile of relief that spread across her face when she caught the flash of blonde hair as Luna dreamily skipped into the room. If anyone could make her feel better it was the younger witch.

“Hi Luna” Hermione spoke softly to announce her presence to her friend. She was glad that the other girl had decided to return to Hogwarts this year, her warm nature was a great source of comfort to the bushy haired witch.

“Oh, hi Hermione.” Luna looked her way, a worried expression in her blue eyes. “I haven’t interrupted a deep thought have I? I fear I have a bad habit of doing that.”

Hermione released a breathy laugh. “I think you may have. But believe me; you are doing me a favour. If I’m left alone with my own thoughts for too long I start to let them get on top of me.”

Luna moved closer to Hermione, smiling a crooked smile as she leant her back against the windowsill close to the brunette’s feet. The Blonde witch stood looking out at the room and Hermione could see the younger girls face in profile as her eyes danced up to the rafters of the owlery looking for creatures most could only imagine.

“They say a problem shared is a problem halved.” Luna offered, giving Hermione a chance to put voice to her worries if she wished to but not demanding anything of her.

Hermione heaved a heavy breath. “I was just thinking about Ronald.”

“Hmmm…yes.” The blonde hummed pensively. “I have often thought you two to be an odd match.”

“Luna how did you…” Hermione paused shaking her head in disbelief at the younger witch essentially being able to read her mind. She had offered such little information. “How did you know that was what I was thinking about?”

“Ron is a good person.” Luna replied, ignoring Hermione’s question all together. “But you need someone who challenges you, someone who matches your fire. Harry would have been a better choice, but he loves Ginny.” She continued as if she was discussing the choice between having jam and marmalade on her toast.

“People underestimate you Luna, did you know that?” Hermione asked rhetorically as she let her head fall back against the window frame. She scanned the rafters herself as she allowed herself to wrap her mind around what Luna had said. She did need someone to match her, to push her and someone who would confront her. She needed a leader, someone with their own mind. But Ron was a follower. Hermione knew that if Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts this year the ginger boy would have just done the same. He was incapable of stepping out on his own.

“I can see why you like it here so much.” Luna commented in a cheery voice, breaking Hermione out of her reverie. “There are not nearly as many Nargles here as inside the castle.”

“And not nearly as many prying eyes here as inside the castle.” Hermione countered with a bitter tone to her voice, remembering what had driven her here in the first place.

“I have noticed people find you much more interesting lately.” Luna said conversationally. “Since beating the Dark Lord.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It would seem I’m quite the tourist attraction.”

“It’s a shame they couldn’t see it before. I’ve always found you quite intriguing Hermione.” Luna turned her face to look at the brunette witch and smiled.

Hermione felt some of the tension melt away thanks to the ethereal blonde. “Thank you Luna… I think.” She said with a nervous laugh. “We should get back to the castle; it’s almost time for dinner.”

“I’ll follow you down in a second. I have to send this letter to my Dad.” Luna replied holding up the envelope she had been holding in her hand. “I promised I’d write to him and tell him if the staircases still moved.”

* * *

Hermione stepped into the Great Hall; hoping she could blend into the crowd of students and make it to the Gryffindor table without being stopped by someone she didn’t know or didn’t want to talk to. Her eyes scanned the four long tables that ran the length of the grand room, her attention mostly on the table bedecked in red and gold as she looked for somebody that she knew. Finally Hermione spotted the fiery red hair of her best friend Ginny Weasley who was sat laughing with Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Her heart swelled with relief as she thought about how lucky she was that so many of her friends had returned to complete their 7th year alongside her. Hermione made a beeline for the group and slipped onto the bench beside Ginny, smiling as the ginger girl turned to look at her.

“Where have you been all afternoon?” Ginny questioned in a demanding tone that reminded Hermione acutely of Molly Weasley. “Please do not tell me you have been in that bloody library already. Classes haven’t even started.”

“Oh hi there Ginny, it’s lovely to see you too. Yes I’ve had a fantastic afternoon thank you for asking.” Hermione responded, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

Ginny threw her a patronising smile. “You didn’t answer my question. Have you been in the library?”

“No, I’ve been in the owlery.” Hermione sighed. “I needed a little bit of time to myself. It’s crazy here now, people following me around like I’m some kind of celebrity.”

“Well you kind of are Hermione.” Dean offered with a shrug, reaching over to stab his fork into a steaming roast potato that had appeared on the platter in the middle of the table.

“It is pretty intense now that everyone is back.” Neville replied with genuine sympathy in his voice. “We were lulled into a false sense of security over the summer. Everyone that stayed to fix up Hogwarts had fought in the war; we were all in the same boat.” He too began piling food onto his plate.

“Things will calm down though Hermione.” Ginny reassured her. “People stopped caring about who Harry was pretty quickly. And they would have forgotten about him all together if he hadn’t been getting himself into trouble every five minutes.”

“Yeah.” Hermione laughed, remembering fondly the trio’s antics in their early years at Hogwarts. In the simpler times before Voldemort had returned. “I’m sure I’ll be old news by the time the quidditch season starts.”

“That’s the spirit” Ginny grinned bumping her shoulder playfully into her brunette friends. “Now eat something. Before Mcgonagall comes over and loads your plate for you.”

Hermione’s eyes automatically snapped up towards the teachers table, sure enough the headmistress’s eyes were fixed solely on her. Mcgonagall knew of the younger witches concerns about coming back to Hogwarts without the support of Harry and Ron and knew that she was apprehensive about the effect her celebrity status would have. Hermione had predicted that her former professor would find excuses to check on her as much as possible. So to pacify the older woman she picked up a chicken leg from one of the platters and took a large bite, holding the rest aloft and raising her eyebrows with a smile. Mcgonagall rolled her eyes and shook her head but the ghost of a smile flashed across her features as she turned back towards Professor Flitwick, pretending she had been listening to him the whole time.

* * *

Hermione had eaten quickly so she could get back to the Gryffindor common room while the corridors were still relatively empty. She couldn’t wait for classes to start; the quicker things got back to normal the better. She heaved a sigh of relief as she realised she was now painfully close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. As she was about to round the corner something stopped her in her tracks, somewhere ahead of her she could hear the unmistakable sound of people arguing. She crept closer to the corner, straining her ears as she tried to listen in to what was being said but the words were still just angry murmurs. The voices were moving closer though and Hermione began to panic a little, she didn’t really want to be caught hiding and listening in to somebody else’s private moment. Wasn’t that what had her so on edge? People not granting her a moment to herself.

Any panic or trace of guilt quickly vanished as the one word she hoped to never hear again assaulted her ears, and it had been hissed in an all too familiar voice. “Mudblood” The word echoed through her brain. “Mudblood” it made her head spin. “Mudblood” it made her skin crawl. “Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood.” It seemed to reverberate off the inside of her skull with every beat of her racing heart. The scar that Bellatrix’s dagger had caused prickled on her arm, her hand inadvertently covered it before she drew her wand and strode around the corner. Finally she came face to face with the owner of that voice she had grown to hate over the years.

“Some things never change do they Malfoy?” Hermione ground out through gritted teeth. She levelled her wand at the blonde boy’s chest, cursing how her hand shook with the rage that filled her veins. “You might be able to remove the Dark Mark but you can never kill the Death Eater.”

Draco Malfoy looked genuinely shocked to see the bushy haired witch appear in front of him and he gulped visibly as his eyes dropped to Hermione’s wand. “Now Granger, don’t go doing anything you’ll regret.” He said slowly, trying to sound confident but his voice betrayed a slight tremor.

“And why would I regret anything I do to you after what I have just heard?” Hermione countered with a hard voice.

Draco’s eyes flicked to his companion, Hermione only now registering Blaise Zabini standing slightly behind the blond boy. “Because you don’t understand what you heard…”

Hermione didn’t give him a chance to finish what he was about to say, she took another step towards Draco. “I don’t understand?” She all but shouted. “I understand just fine. I understand that you are a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human being who should never have been allowed to come back to this school.”

“I know what you’re thinking Hermione…” Draco tried but was cut off again by the brunette witch.

Hearing her first name roll off the blond boy’s tongue almost made her want to throw up. “How dare you presume to know what I am thinking?” Hermione hissed, her nostrils flaring. “How dare you come here, to the only place that I have left and use that word? The word that your aunt made sure I could never forget.” She pulled the sleeve of her jumper up to reveal the angry pink scar that still stood out starkly against her pale flesh.

Draco clenched his jaw and looked away from Hermione’s arm. “If you want to hex me, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to fight with you, not anymore.” He rushed out in a broken voice.

“I want to tell you that I’m better than that. That I’m better than hexing you.” Hermione almost sobbed. “But I think the part of me that was better than that died on your drawing room floor some months ago.”

Hermione flicked her wand and a red jet shot from the end of it, hitting Draco square in the chest. He flew backwards several feet and his skull hit the stone floor with a sickening thud. He groaned slightly as he tried to push himself up from the floor but didn’t quite manage it, blood ran from a wound on the side of his head dripping on to the floor. Hermione marched over to Draco’s crumpled form and pointed her wand at him again. Draco looked up at her from where he laid, his grey eyes met Hermione’s and she just had chance to see the broken look within them.

“Miss Granger, move away from Mr Malfoy this instant.” A stern voice demanded from behind Hermione. Her head whipped around and her eyes took in the livid face of Professor Mcgonagall.

The headmistress swept passed Hermione and crouched down next to Draco, looking over his body for any signs of injury; other than the obvious. “Can you stand Mr Malfoy?” she asked with a clipped tone.

“I think so.” Draco replied quietly as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching out for Mcgonagall’s arm to steady himself for a second.

Professor Mcgonagall spun around to her other two students. “Mr Zabini, please take Draco to the Hospital Wing at once. Ask Madam Pomfrey to check him over.”

“Yes Professor.” Blaise nodded as he grabbed Draco’s arm and led him in the direction of the school infirmary.

Mcgonagall turned blazing eyes on Hermione. “Miss Granger. With me. Now” The headmistress said in a voice that left no room for argument. The older witch spun on her heel and set off in the direction of her office while Hermione trailed behind her looking defeated.

* * *

Hermione settled herself into the chair in front of Professor Mcgonagall’s desk; the headmistress sighed and shook her head as she looked at the young girl opposite her. “Miss Granger what on earth were you thinking?”

“I heard him professor. I heard him say mudblood” Hermione demanded through gritted teeth.

“And you think that is justification for attacking him?” Mcgonagall asked incredulously.

Hermione stared at her professor with an expression that would have made anyone else shy away but the headmistress just met her gaze with equal fire. “No one gets to use that word. Not anymore. Not after all of the things that people have sacrificed to rid this world of bigoted thinking like that. No one gets to say it. Especially not Draco Malfoy with all of the things that his family has done.”

“I can understand why that word affects you the way that it does. But if I remember correctly, you were one of the people who spoke out in favour of the Malfoy family being pardoned.” Mcgonagall pointed out.

“That was when I thought they had changed.” Hermione stood up out of her chair as her anger took hold. “But people like them can never change Professor. Draco proved that this evening.”

“I would not have allowed Mr Malfoy to return to this school if I did not think he had changed.” The headmistress said in a measured tone. “Everyone can change Hermione. Just look at you. Before this war you would never have attacked anyone without just cause.”

“But…” Hermione began, stopping short when Mcgonagall raised her hand.

“I am not finished Miss Granger.” The older woman ground out. “In what context did Mr Malfoy use the word?”

“Context?” Hermione asked bewildered. “What does it matter what context he used it in?”

“Hermione, it makes all the difference in the world.” Mcgonagall said gently. “If Mr Malfoy had called you a Mudblood I could understand how it would make you so angry. But if he simply used it in conversation you have hurt the boy for no reason.”

Hermione scoffed. “What conversation could he be having where saying that could be justified?”

Minerva Mcgonagall observed her student over her glasses for moment, reminding Hermione distinctly of Albus Dumbledore. “Perhaps you should find out.”

“And how do you suggest I do that Professor?” Hermione shot back. “Surely you aren’t proposing that I seek Draco out and have a jolly little conversation with him about it.”

“Certainly not Miss Granger” Mcgonagall said in a hard tone. “I would not trust you within 100 yards of Mr Malfoy.”

Hermione spun around the glare at the older woman. “You don’t trust me?” she asked in a voice that cracked with emotion. Professor Mcgonagall had always been her favourite teacher, her mentor and now someone she classed as a friend.

“This version of you, Hermione?” Minerva asked as she stood up too, moving around her desk to stand in front of the bushy haired girl. “I don’t know the girl that I saw tonight. A girl that would gladly attack an unarmed boy. The thing that has always made you so special Hermione is your strong sense of justice and that you can see past what other people cannot. That you can see the true heart of a person.”

“Professor, what if that girl is gone?” Hermione asked as tears began to slide down her cheeks. “What if I can never be the girl that I was before the war?”

“Oh my dear.” The older woman sighed as she pulled Hermione into an embrace. “Of course you can never be the person that you were before the war. Experiences like that leave an indelible mark on your soul. But that does not mean that you have to lose the qualities that make you who you are.”

Hermione gripped onto her professor’s robes, breathing in the woman’s scent and finding that it eased the aching in her chest. “I’m so angry all of the time.” She admitted.

“Of course you are.” Mcgonagall said, squeezing the girl tighter. “So many thoroughly unfair things have happened to you. You have been forced to grow up well before your time. You have been forced to endure things that grown adults would struggle to recover from. You have seen things that no person should have to see. You are entirely justified in feeling angry. But I think tonight you may have directed your anger at the wrong person.” The older witch leant back to look at Hermione. “Draco Malfoy is not to blame for the things that Bellatrix has done.”

“I know Professor.” Hermione nodded as she untangled herself from Mcgonagall’s arms.

Mcgonagall moved away from the younger girl and headed back around her desk. “I want you to have a better understanding of what happened tonight.” She said as she pointed her wand at the top drawer of her desk and unlocked it. She slid the drawer open and took out a familiar object. “Maybe if you saw the incident from another perspective you might gain a new perspective on Mr Malfoy.”

Hermione reached across the headmistress’ desk and carefully took the time turner from the older woman.


	2. Time flies

Hermione stood in the middle of the headmistress’ office holding the time turner in her hands; she traced the engraved words with her fingertip. _‘I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do.’_ She thought about those words. What did she have to do? Did she really want to go back to her argument with Draco and find out that she had been wrong? Did she really want to find out that there had been a legitimate excuse for Draco to use _that_ word? Did she really want to discover that she had attacked Draco for no reason and that she had let her anger get the better of her? Or would it be worse to go back and find out that she had been right the whole time? That Draco Malfoy had not changed from the entitled, pompous little git who had flung that insult at her so casually throughout their youth. If she were to find out that was the case, she wasn’t sure she could spend the next year sharing the hallways of her beloved Hogwarts with him. She wasn’t sure that she could attempt to forgive him another time.

Professor Mcgonagall watched her pensive student from where she sat behind her desk, she spoke softly to break her student’s reverie gently. “An hour should do it I would think Miss Granger.”

“Yes, I would think so.” Hermione replied distractedly.

“Hermione.” The older witch spoke softly, getting up and approaching the girl cautiously. “Is something the matter?”

The bushy haired witch sighed turning to face her mentor. “It feels as though whatever I find out will not put my mind at rest.”

The headmistress chuckled lightly. “Ignorance is not always bliss my dear. This would eat away at you in the end and you know it.”

“You’re right.” Hermione conceded, but she still didn’t look happy.

“We need to begin this year anew. We need to have buried the animosity of this war with our dead. If we allow bad feeling and anger to carry on it will destroy us all in time.” Mcgonagall said softly as she took both of the girl’s hands in her own, giving them a comforting squeeze. “If this war has taught us anything it is that there is nothing more powerful than love. A wise man once said ‘hate cannot drive out hate’. Do not let hatred consume you Hermione; we have seen the damage that can do.”

Hermione looked down at her own hands inside the older woman’s and thought about the words that had just been spoken. She had seen what festering hatred could do to a person’s soul in what Lord Voldemort had become. She had seen how hatred lingered in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange as the woman had pinned her to the floor of Malfoy Manor. She could not bear for there to be any comparison between herself and the dark creatures that had caused so much pain and suffering within this world.

“Why are you letting me do this Professor?” Hermione asked, not looking up as she spoke.

Mcgonagall cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you letting me go back in time?” Hermione clarified. “You have always told me how dangerous time travel can be, that there are strict rules that govern what time turners can be used for. Yet this seems such a trivial matter over which to defy those rules.”

The headmistress let go of the younger witch’s hands and took a step away from her, looking her up and down. “You’re right; an argument between two students may be trivial in the grand scheme of things. But this is not trivial to you is it Miss Granger?”

Hermione shook her head. “I need to know whether Draco has changed. I need to know that I was not naïve to believe there was hope for a better future.”

“And that is exactly why I am willing to break the rules. You deserve to know the answers to your questions Hermione. You have given up much, much more than many others that walk these halls. Sometimes the universe owes a debt.” Mcgonagall said her voice betraying the emotion she tried to keep hidden.

The brunette’s eyes scanned the headmistress’s office and she cleared her throat. “I should leave now if I want this to work Professor.”

“Quite right.” Mcgonagall nodded as she swallowed thickly, all of a sudden looking conflicted. In one swift motion the older witch stepped towards Hermione and swept the girl into a tight embrace, resting her cheek on top of the girl’s head. “You are so very dear to me Hermione. You have the strongest heart of anyone that I know, make sure that you follow it…always.”

Hermione twisted herself around a little so she could look up at the headmistress. “Professor, is everything ok?” she asked, slightly shocked by the usually measured witch’s display of affection.

“I’m fine.” Mcgonagall laughed lightly as she released the younger witch from her arms. “It just feels as though, after everything we have been through, we should take any opportunity to tell those closest to us what they mean to us.”

The bushy haired witch was touched by the sentiment but couldn’t quite shake the feeling of confusion those words brought with them. She was only travelling back in time one hour and Mcgonagall was acting as though she was going back off on her hunt for Horcruxes. “I should leave.” She repeated, unsure of what else to say.

Hermione turned her attention back to the gold trinket in her hands and carefully turned the hourglass precisely once. Just before she slipped the delicate chain of the time turner around her neck she looked up at her Professor. “I have always trusted you above everyone else Minerva.”

As the older witch watched the girl disappear she couldn’t control the sob that slipped from her throat. She pushed her fist to her lips as she fought to regain her composure. “Good Luck Hermione.” Mcgonagall whispered to the empty room.

The older woman allowed herself a rare moment to be weak. She spent most of her life denying this side of herself but for right now she wallowed in the vulnerability. She allowed herself to cry for her student who was suffering right now and who had too much adversity still left to face. Hermione was so young and yet she carried a burden far beyond her years. Mcgonagall wished she could take some of the pressure away from the young girl, but she knew there was no chance of that now.

“Minerva, you act as if someone has died.” A voice behind the older witch said softly, the hint of a smile present in their voice.

“In a sense they have.” Mcgonagall replied as she turned to face the source of the voice. “A version of Hermione has gone from my life forever.”

The headmistress’s companion stepped out of the darkness that had shrouded her from view until now. The dim candlelight of the office revealed a bushy haired woman with a scattering of freckles across her cheeks. The woman was unmistakably an older Hermione; around thirty years older than the Hermione Granger who had disappeared into the recent past only moments ago. “Am I really such a poor substitute?” Hermione asked affectionately.

“Don’t answer that Minerva. I fear this is one of those questions to which there is no correct answer.” A third voice called out in warning from the other side of the room. Out of the shadows stepped a woman dressed head to toe in black, her messy black curls framed her pale face as she focused her attention on picking at her blood red nails carelessly.

Minerva chuckled lightly as she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Bellatrix Black. “I am very glad to have you here, I just wish I could save you from some of the heart ache I know you are about to face.”

Hermione stepped closer to her mentor and reached out to gently wipe the stray tears from her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I wouldn’t want you to take that heart ache away. Without it I would not have what I do now.” The bushy haired witch looked across at Bellatrix who was fiddling with something she shouldn’t be on the headmistress’s desk. “It was all worth it in the end Minerva.”

“That may be so.” The older witch said softly. “I just wish that you could have achieved this contentment without all of the sacrifice.”

“It is not hard to sacrifice for those that you love.” Hermione said simply, smiling to herself as she thought about the people she had in her life now and how much love infiltrated every fibre of her being.

“What do we do now?” Minerva asked, her usual surety gone. “In a little over an hour, eighteen year old Hermione will be gone from this world forever. Many people will have questions, questions I’m not sure how to answer.”

“She won’t be gone altogether.” Hermione pointed out gently. “I will be here instead and I can explain, to all those that need to know, everything that I am able to. That is all we can do.”

Minerva sighed and turned her attention to the window, focusing on a nondescript point in the distance. “Do you think those boys will be able to accept that you have spent these years hiding away from the world with all of that knowledge of what was to come?”

“Perhaps not.” Hermione conceded. “But as you said, they are boys. When they grow up I trust that they will understand the burden of the responsibility that I had.”

“I trust that they will too.” The headmistress agreed, a small smile gracing her face.

Hermione appeared to steel herself before beginning to speak. “While we are on the topic of those boys, I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you.”

“Anything, Hermione. You know that.” Minerva said earnestly.

“Would you be able to support me in a conversation I must have with Ronald.” Hermione swallowed thickly as she was over taken by an unexpected case of nerves. “I feel as though he deserves an explanation of how Bellatrix and I ended up together. I want you to help me make him understand that he will be able to find someone who can make him truly happy. Because I never would have been able to make him happy.”

Minerva let out a dry laugh. “You want me to help you break up with Mr Weasley?”

“In a sense, yes I suppose I do.” The bushy haired witch said in something little over a whisper.

“And you don’t think this is something that is better coming from you alone?” Minerva asked diplomatically.

Any answer Hermione was about to give was cut off by a loud clatter and a whispered curse word which came from the direction of the headmistress’s desk. Bellatrix had predictably broken whatever it was that she had been playing with the last time the other women had checked on her. The black haired witch pulled out her wand and flicked it quickly over the object, repairing it to the state it had been before she had got her hands on it.

Bellatrix cleared her throat as she moved away from the older woman’s desk, ending her temptation to fidget with things anymore. “I can imagine that would be a rather awkward conversation. Sorry Weasley we’re done, but don’t pine over me because I’m now married to your mortal enemy.”

“I imagine Hermione would be able to handle the situation with more tact than you are capable of.” Minerva chuckled as she made her way over to her desk to check on the object Bellatrix had been manhandling.

“You would think so Minerva. But I often found my wife to be much too blunt.” Bellatrix replied nonchalantly.

“Only with you.” Hermione chipped in with a scowl. “It is not my fault if you have absolutely no reading for subtlety.”

“I can read subtlety darling. It’s passive aggressiveness that I have the problem with.” Bellatrix smirked, raising her eyebrows in a mischievous way at Hermione.

Minerva cleared her throat and put on her stern teachers expression. “I could always go and get Hermione now and ensure that she doesn’t have her little horological accident. That way I could save myself the potential of spending almost thirty years listening to the two of you bickering.”

“It’s too late for regrets now Minerva.” Bellatrix said dramatically a smirk tugging at one side of her lips. “You’re chance to keep the girl here and save us all a few decades of stress has slipped away. Oh, can you imagine the peaceful existence I could have had if Hermione had not tumbled through time and into my life?”

“Yes a fantastically peaceful existence, locked up in a cell in Azkaban.” Hermione countered, smacking Bellatrix playfully on the arm. “You know your life would be miserable without me. My tumble through time is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Excuse me.” The dark haired witch said, rubbing her arm as if the light smack had caused serious damage. “Aren’t you the one that spends so much of their time telling our children not to hit?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated at her wife’s inability to take anything seriously. “I make the rules. I don’t have to follow them.”

Mcgonagall chuckled lightly drawing the attention of the two younger witches. “If I had told the Hermione that just left this office that this is what her future held I think she would have cursed me on the spot.” The older woman watched as Bellatrix moved closer to Hermione, slipping her arm around the brunette’s waist and affectionately kissing her shoulder. “But I do wish I could tell her the happiness that is waiting for her if she is brave enough to pursue it.”

* * *

Hermione reappeared, somewhat breathlessly, in the now empty office of Minerva Mcgonagall. She looked at the clock on the wall and realised the older woman would still be in the Great Hall having dinner. She wasn’t sure exactly what time her altercation with Draco Malfoy had happened but she knew she had to get moving. It would be dangerous for anybody to see her and heavens forbid she miss the action after the headmistress had taken such a personal risk to allow her to come back here. Hermione tucked the time turner inside the collar of her blouse, pushed open the heavy oak door of the office and made her way down the short spiral staircase, squeezing past the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to the room. Skirting through the shadows of the wide corridors the brunette witch rushed to the part of the castle surrounding the portrait of the Fat Lady. Luckily she knew this area like the back of her hand so quickly found an alcove where she could hide from view but still see in the direction that Malfoy had come from.

Hermione sat in her hidey hole and counted every insufferable second that slipped by, she hated being idle. So she busied herself by picking loose threads from her robe and pulling at the split ends of her bushy mane. After what felt like 3 hours, which was probably more like 10 minutes, she began to hear deep voices drifting in her direction. At first they were just dulcet murmurs but before long Hermione began to be able to make out actual words.

“I was not sulking” The sullen voice of Draco Malfoy reached her ears making Hermione groan inwardly.

Blaise Zabini snorted “Yeah right Draco, what else do you call skulking in the dungeons while everyone else enjoys a feast?”

“I don’t want to be looked at like a freak show, Zabini.” Hermione could tell that Draco was angry and as much as it pained her to admit it she could understand what the boy meant. Hadn’t she, only earlier today, slipped off to the owlery to hide from prying eyes? “I just want to keep my head down and finish my education.”

“Keep your head down?” Blaise asked incredulously. “You cannot just keep your head down and hide Draco. People will begin to think that you have done something wrong?”

“Haven’t I?” Draco asked in a flat voice.

Now that the boys were closer Hermione could see their faces clearly. Blaise Zabini wore a mask of shock and anger after hearing his friend’s words. Where Draco Malfoy looked broken, his cheeks were sunken and there were rings under his eyes that Hermione hadn’t noticed when she had attacked him.

“Draco.” Blaise said calmly, obviously trying to pacify his companion. “Do not let the fact that we lost the war get to you this much. There are still many victories to be had.”

“Victories that I will not be a part of” Draco spat. “Do not be so naïve as to believe that there were winners and losers in the war Zabini. Everybody lost.”

Hermione heard Zabini chuckle humourlessly. “Are you scared Malfoy?” The sudden change in the darker boy’s mood made Hermione feel uneasy somehow.

“Of course I’m scared” Draco shot back, shocking both his companion and Hermione as she saw a dangerous fire flash in the blond boy’s eyes. “My family just about survived the war. We are hanging on by a thread and I will not be the one that brings us crashing down to earth. Not now. Not after everything we have done.”

“I thought Potter and his little friends ensured your pardon.” Blaise sneered. “After your father proved himself to be the turncoat everyone always suspected him to be.”

Draco tactfully ignored the jibe at his father but there was no ignoring the obvious anger in his voice. “They did. And they could just as easily ensure our undoing.”

Zabini shook his head. “Those idiots are too busy at the ministry to worry about you are your family Draco. They are riding the last of their luck into high powered positions that they will never succeed at.”

“Not all of them” Draco muttered.

“Don’t worry about the mudblood.” The dark boy said offhandedly with the trace of a smirk.

Hermione wanted to leap out of her hiding place and wipe the cocky look off of Zabini’s face, but before she could even tell her legs to move Draco had the boy by the front of his robes. The blonde’s face was twitching with anger as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare use that word. Don’t you dare call her mudblood.”

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, she felt sick. How could she have been so stupid? She had attacked Draco when all he had been doing was defending her. She wanted to cry and hide away from what she knew was about to happen next. But she couldn’t. She was the one who had acted out of hatred and fear; accusing the wrong person and doing something unforgivable. Now she was the one who had to face up to what she had done.

The bushy haired witch lifted her head just in time to see herself round the corner; the look she saw in her own eyes was one that she didn’t recognise. The look was ugly and empty and it made her skin crawl. What had she become?

From this angle, hiding in her alcove, Hermione could see things she had not the first time this scene had played out. When she had pointed her wand at Draco’s chest, she saw how Blaise had reached for his own wand only to be stopped by a firm hand from the blond boy on his wrist. When she roughly pulled up the sleeve of her robes to reveal the word Mudblood carved into her flesh Draco had only just managed to choke back a heave before he looked away. Clearly replaying in his mind the terrible night she had received the scar. The night when he had been forced to watch his Aunt Bellatrix torture her mercilessly.

Hermione almost threw up herself when she saw the red jet fly from the end of her wand sending Draco sprawling through the air like a rag doll. The first time around she hadn’t taken a second to assess how bad the injury to the boys head had been. From here she could see how the deep plume of crimson saturated his blond hair almost instantaneously. She winced and closed her eyes briefly in shame. She hadn’t noticed how when Draco tried to push himself from the floor his arms had trembled and given way under his weight. She wanted to rush to him and help him up, to look him in the eye and tell him how truly sorry she was for having acted the way that she had. But she knew that she could not. Part of her penance was to play silent voyeur to this awful scene.

It was with utter relief that Hermione saw the livid face of Minerva Mcgonagall, knowing that her suffering was about to come to an end. She watched the quick exchange between Professor Mcgonagall and the boys as Draco was sent to the hospital wing. Then she turned her attention to her past self, she wanted to scream at herself. The Hermione of a few hours ago stood with her head bowed in shame, but current Hermione knew that the shame she felt was at being seen at her worst by Mcgonagall not at what she had done. Past Hermione had no idea what shame was, it was nothing compared to the type of shame that was clawing away at her chest now as she hid in her alcove. She had attacked someone, but worse than that she had attacked someone who had not deserved it. When had she become someone who believed them self to be judge and executioner? Almost before she had time to compose herself Mcgonagall and her past self began making their way towards her hiding place. She pressed herself further into the alcove, shrinking back into the shadows to avoid being seen by either party. Despite her best efforts Professor Mcgonagall’s head swivelled towards where she was lurking, throwing the murky gloom a knowing look without ever breaking stride.

* * *

After allowing herself a few minutes to compose herself Hermione eventually prised herself from the alcove and quickly made her way to the Gryffindor common room. She just wanted to curl up in her bed, cry and pretend like tonight never happened. She knew she only had that evening before the corridors of Hogwarts would be awash with gossip about what she had done to Draco Malfoy. The anxiety at the thought of it almost over took her rational mind as she felt its crushing weight on her chest.

The feeling of anxiety dissipated slightly as she crawled through the portrait hole and sighed as she was greeted by the comforting warmth of the cosy red and gold common room. Her eyes quickly scanned the area suspecting that at least some of her friends would still be awake. Hermione didn’t really want to speak to any of them, particularly about what had happened tonight, but knew that it would be unavoidable without it looking suspicious. Her worst fear was realised when she spotted Ginny frantically waving at her from a couch by the fire. She reluctantly crossed the room and plonked down next to her friend.

“Hey grumpy Gus.” Ginny greeted her mockingly as she saw the sullen look on Hermione’s face. “I thought you would have beaten me here. You left the Great Hall almost half an hour before me.”

“I popped to the library.” Hermione shocked herself with the easiness of the lie. She knew that her ginger friend would not judge her for what she had done to Draco but she just wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Ginny turned to her friend with an incredulous look. “You and that sodding library Hermione. Do I need to repeat myself? Classes. Have. Not. Started. Yet.”

“I’m aware of that Ginny, thank you.” Hermione replied sarcastically, blowing her breath out in a huff. “I guess I just wanted… to hide away a little bit.” This may not have been the truth this evening but it was certainly how she felt right now. She wanted to hide away from the world. From what she had just done.

“You can’t hide away Hermione.” Ginny said, it was a simple comment but the words made the bushy haired witch shiver as they were almost a direct echo of those spoken by Blaise Zabini earlier. Before she could stop it her mind was replaying the images of Draco’s head bouncing off the stone floor.

“I know.” Hermione offered to her friend as she squeezed her eyes shut trying to stop the sound of skull on stone floor echoing in her mind. “But I think I’m going to need to for a while.” She knew that although many of her peers would cheer over the fact she had taken Malfoy down a peg or two, others would be horrified at her actions.

Ginny reached across and took her friends hand; the ginger witch could see the turmoil swirling in the other girls eyes. “You know you’re never alone, right?”

Hermione smiled weakly. “I do Gin. And I appreciate it.”

“Would you like to talk?” The younger girl asked. She wasn’t sure what was bothering Hermione so much tonight but she was sure as hell not going to let her go through it alone.

“I don’t think I do right now.” Hermione said in a small but certain voice. “Is that ok?”

“Of course that’s ok ‘Mione.” Ginny smiled softly at her friend, giving her hands a comforting squeeze of understanding. “Why don’t you go up to the dorm and I’ll hang around here for the next half an hour or so? It’ll give you some time to yourself, to decompress.”

Hermione sighed and fought with everything within her not to cry at her friend’s kindness. Kindness she didn’t feel like she deserved right now. “Ginny, I don’t know what I did in a past life but it must have been something good to end up with a friend like you.”

“What you did in a past life Hermione? What about all the good you have done in this one?” The younger witch chuckled affectionately, looking her friend dead in the eye. “I don’t know what is going on in that wonderful mind of yours right now but remember that we’re safe now and everything is ok.”

The bushy haired witch knew her friend was trying to reassure her but Hermione could not help but scoff in her head at the notion of safety and normality. She did not feel safe or like everything was ok at all, she had not felt like that for even a second since the war had ended. Yes Voldemort was gone but she wasn’t safe from the nightmares that plagued her most evenings. Yes the ministry was back under the control of the light but there were still people all over the country that believed wholeheartedly in what the Death Eaters had attempted to achieve. Yes she was no longer under attack but now she was the one doing the attacking because she couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone. Yes she and her friends were free to live normal lives, but did she want to live the life that was laid out before her? Did she want to marry Ron, have 2.4 children, live in a house with a picket fence and work for the ministry?

The crushing anxiety crept into her chest once again as her thoughts threatened to drown her. Standing abruptly she turned to her ginger friend. “I have to go. Goodnight Ginny.” With that she rushed towards her dorm not giving the other girl time to reply or adjust to Hermione’s new mood.

When Hermione finally reached the sanctuary of the dorm room she slammed the door shut behind her and pressed her back to the cold wooden door. She needed something to help her feel grounded, her breathing was ragged and the bushy haired witch was pretty sure she was on the brink of a panic attack. Hermione threw her head backwards; the pain of her skull hitting the unyielding surface brought her back to reality slightly. Looking around the room, that held all of her creature comforts and reminders of the person she was before the war, she couldn’t find it within herself to stop the sobs breaking free from her throat. She felt so far removed from the person she was only a year ago, the girl she had watched attack Draco Malfoy tonight was entirely unrecognisable to her. The more she thought about life as she knew it right now the harder the sobs became, her whole frame was shaking and her legs would no longer support her body weight, so she slid down the door until she was sitting on the cold floor.

As she curled her body around her knees she felt something hard dig into her chest and she remember that Mcgonagall’s time turner was still hidden under her blouse. She wrenched the device from around her neck and tossed it carelessly across the room towards her bed, where it hit the mattress before promptly bouncing off the edge and landed with a tinkle on the floor. Hermione knew she should be more respectful towards her mentor’s prized possession but right now she could not bring herself to care. All she could think about was the pounding in her head and the dull aching that filled her chest.

Hermione sobbed into her knees for more time than she cared to admit and would have continued to do so had she not been interrupted by the incessant pawing on her arm courtesy of Crookshanks. The half-kneazle must have had his peace disturbed by the girl’s incessant sobbing and now he wanted to know what on earth was going on. Hermione reached over and scooped the giant, ginger beast into her lap and buried her face into the fur of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and letting her tears dry in his coat.

“Hey Crooks’” Hermione whispered affectionately to her beloved pet. “Did I wake you up from your nap with my silly crying?”

The half-cat, half-kneazle looked up at her with his big orange eyes before letting out an indignant meow and turning his nose up as if to show his displeasure at being disturbed.

Hermione chuckled lightly at her pets antics. “Well, I am so very sorry sir.” The bushy haired witch said her voice laced with sarcasm. “But I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.” She added as she reached out to scratch his chin, knowing this to be his one true weakness.

At first the ginger moggy attempted to move away from her touch as if to say ‘it isn’t going to be that easy’. But he could only refuse Hermione’s persistence for so long and was quickly purring away with his eyes closed, enjoying every second.

Once Crookshanks felt that Hermione’s debt was suitably paid he stretched, yawned and lightly climbed down from her lap to busy himself with something more important. Hermione sighed and laid her head back at the door once again, she took a steadying breath and then began the task of convincing her body to move. She unfolded herself stiffly from the floor and stretched her back out, hearing a few things pop and crack back into place after having been curled up in an awkward position for far too long. Hermione walked over to the mirror to assess the damage the crying had done to her face, her skin was blotchy, her eyes were puffy and red and her lips looked swollen and cracked. In short she looked a fright. Her first thought was that she was going to have to dim the lights before Ginny came up to bed in the hopes that she could hide the worst of the damage from her friend.

Hermione spun around about to make her way over to her bed when she was stopped in her tracks by what she saw. Crookshanks was laid on his back on the floor juggling Mcgonagall’s golden time turner between his large ginger paws, its delicate chain clamped firmly between his teeth.

“Crookshanks, no” the witch bellowed as she rushed across the room and dropped to her knees before attempting the wrestle the device from her pet. “You do not play with things like this” she reprimanded sternly as she untangled the last part of the chain from Crookshanks’ jaws. She looked the time turner over thoroughly but save for a few ginger hairs trapped in the mechanics Hermione could see no damage. Breathing a sigh of relief she slipped the golden trinket around her neck deciding this was the safest place for it until she could return it to the headmistress tomorrow.

No sooner had the time turner settled on Hermione’s chest she felt the familiar pull of the strands of time tugging at her body, dragging her back to she did not know when. The bushy haired witch began to panic, the racing backwards of time usually lasted a matter of seconds but on this occasion it showed no sign of stopping soon. As the seconds stretched on the tugging at her body began to become more insistent and more painful. It felt as though sharp claws were tearing at her flesh and something was squeezing her head as though it was attempting to crack her skull in two. She opened her mouth to scream in pain but no sound came out. She began to see black spots in her vision and she was pretty sure she was going to pass out any second. Hermione had heard the horror stories of what happened to those that mistreated time turners. How timelines could be irreparably damaged. How people could end up trapped in a time that was not their own. How time travellers bodies aged decades in a matter of days. But before Hermione could come up with anymore horrendous consequences to her accidental time jump the world realigned with a shocking jolt and she hit the hard floor with a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the second chapter as much as the first! When I posted this on FF the part with "future/now present" Hermione and Bellatrix was in a companion story but I decided to include it in this story instead this time around. I hope it worked, either way let me know.


	3. Awakening

Two girls were innocently trying to relax in their darkened dorm room when abruptly their peace was interrupted by a loud thud and distinctly human groan filling the gloom. Both girls leapt out of bed simultaneously and a clattering sound could be heard as one of the girls fumbled around on her bedside table, desperately trying to find purchase on her wand.

“L…Lumos” the girl stuttered as her fingers finally closed around the carved wood. An eerie blue light illuminated the room and revealed a pale and shaking Hermione sprawled out on her front on the floor.

“Oh Merlin. Who is that?” The second girl said, stepping back from Hermione’s prone form in shock and pressing a hand to her chest, covering her racing heart.

The first girl knelt down next to the unmoving form, allowing her glowing wand to expose the features of Hermione’s face. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen her before. She’s wearing Gryffindor robes though.”

The second girl cautiously moved closer and peered down at Hermione too. “Amelia, she’s bleeding. Is she dead?”

Even in the dim light the exasperated look on Amelia’s face was obvious. “Of course she isn’t dead. You can see she’s breathing Marlene.”

“What happened to her?” Marlene asked, looking at her friend with a terrified yet curious expression.

“How am I supposed to know what happened to her?” Amelia threw back as she reached out to press two fingers to Hermione’s neck where she felt the girl’s pulse thump lazily.

“Do you think she tried to Apparate and it went wrong?” Marlene asked.

“You can’t Apparate in or out of Hogwarts. You know that.” Amelia said, shaking her head at her friend. “And that doesn’t explain why we don’t know who she is. She looks our age; we would have met her before now.”

“What if she wakes up and attacks us?” Marlene gasped and jumped away from Hermione again. “What if she’s evil? What are we going to do with her?”

“I don’t think she’s in any fit state to attack anyone right now. She’s clearly hurt badly.” Amelia replied as she stood up slowly and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to get Professor Mcgonagall.”

“No!” Marlene shrieked, grabbing hold of Amelia’s arm in a death grip. “Don’t leave me here with her.”

“Fine” Amelia snapped at her friend. “You go and get Mcgonagall and I’ll stay here with her.”

Marlene scampered towards the door quickly; as her fingers closed around the doorknob she turned back around to face Amelia. “Do you want me to help you tie her up before I leave?”

“No! Just go Marlene.” Amelia snapped at her friend.

Once Amelia was sure Marlene was actually on her way to get Professor Mcgonagall and not about to burst back through the door to ask some inane question, she made her way back over to Hermione. Amelia knelt back down and moved her wand closer to the mystery girl, intending to thoroughly check her over for injuries. She didn’t seem to have hit her head; there were no bumps or bruises that could be seen. Her nose had been bleeding but that seemed to have stopped now. Her limbs all seemed to be in place and looked fine and her breathing was deep and even. Apart from the almost dried blood under her nose and the light sheen of sweat on her brow the girl looked like she was simply sleeping. Amelia reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair out of Hermione’s face so that she could get a better look at the girl who had appeared out of thin air. The action seemed to rouse the unconscious girl somewhat and she groaned and began to move a little. Amelia quickly pulled her hand away and leant back on her heels to give the girl some space.

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around groggily. She scanned what she could see of the room from her position on the floor, she recognised it but couldn’t for the life of her place where she was. She continued moving her eyes until they fell upon a pair of knees. Hermione allowed her vision to run up the frame of the girl in front of her, when it reached her face she tried to rifle through her confused mind to put a name to the person knelt next to her. But again she couldn’t seem to place the girl.

“Who…Who are you?” Hermione croaked out. It seemed to be taking a lot of effort to speak and her voice was much huskier than the last time she used it.

The kneeling girl chuckled lightly. “I could ask you the same thing. You’re the one that just appeared in my dorm room in the middle of the night.”

“Dorm room” Hermione echoed, not quite able to process what the girl was saying to her. As she focussed on her surroundings again the ghostly image of a large, ginger cat padding through this very room filled her mind. But she had no idea what that meant or where the image had come from, thinking about it made her head pound.

“Yes.” Amelia said uncertainly now. The bushy haired girl was obviously in a much worse state than she first expected. “Well, my name is Amelia Bones and this is my dorm room in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My dorm mate, Marlene McKinnon, and I were just trying to get to sleep when you suddenly appeared in our room. Do you have any idea what happened?”

Hermione rolled over slightly and laid her palm across her sweaty forehead, her skin was hot under her hand and she felt nauseous. “No. I have no idea how I got here.”

Susan could hear the panic beginning to lace the other girl’s voice. “That’s ok. We can figure that out later. For now why don’t we get you up off the floor?” When Hermione nodded her consent she reached out and grabbed hold of the bushy haired witch’s arm. She had only meant to aid the girl but ended up half dragging her off the floor and dropping her on to the nearest bed.

“Thank you.” Hermione said with a smile. She did feel slightly better now that she was off the floor; some of her faculties seemed to be returning to her. “Did you say your name was Bones?”

Amelia smiled, relieved that the girl seemed to be acting more normal now. “Yes. Amelia Bones.”

“I know a Bones.” Hermione said with a distant voice. “Susan.”

“Susan?” Amelia asked in a shocked tone. “My middle name is Susan. How do you….how could you know that?”

Hermione’s opportunity to answer was cut off by the dorm room door slamming open. Professor Mcgonagall, clad in a bottle green tartan dressing gown, swept into the room closely followed by a flushed looking Marlene McKinnon.

“What’s happened Miss Bones? Miss McKinnon tells me that a strange girl _apparated_ into your room.” Mcgonagall demanded as her eyes swept over a dishevelled Hermione before she focussed her attention back on Amelia.

“Well, we don’t know that she apparated Professor.” Amelia said somewhat nervously. “She just sort of… appeared out of nowhere. We heard a thud and she was there.”

Professor Mcgonagall walked over to where Hermione sat perched on the edge of Amelia’s bed, the lanterns on the walls began burning brighter to light the room sufficiently enough for the older woman to see. The girl had her head in her hands now, the nauseous feeling having returned when she whipped her head around at the sound of the door banging. The older witch delicately slipped two fingers under the girl’s chin and lifted her head to get a better look at her. She studied the girls face; taking in the grey pallor and clammy sheen of her skin and making note of the dried blood around the girls nose and left ear.

“You’re wearing Gryffindor robes.” Mcgonagall stated pensively, speaking more to herself than to the mystery girl.

“Yeah, we noticed that. Didn’t we Amelia?” Marlene cut in excitedly.

Amelia expertly ignored her over-zealous friend, instead speaking to Mcgonagall. “I’ve asked her a few questions Professor, but I haven’t got much out of her. She doesn’t seem to know what happened to her or how she got here.”

“Thank you Miss Bones.” Mcgonagall said as she reached out and touched the familiar time turner that rested against Hermione’s chest. “I think I may have an idea what happened.”

Marlene gasped as she recognised the object the Professor was examining. “Is that a time turner?”

Much like Amelia had, Mcgonagall ignored the girl’s question instead addressing the bushy haired witch directly. “What’s your name my dear?”

Hermione lifted her head and locked eyes with her future mentor, she wasn’t feeling well at all and just needed a second to compose herself before replying. As she was about to open her mouth to answer Mcgonagall’s question she saw a look of panic erupt in the older woman’s green eyes. Then Hermione saw the woman lurch forward; at the same time she realised that her own body was falling forward and that she was entirely powerless to stop it. This was the final realisation Hermione had before the world went black.

* * *

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open for a second but she quickly snapped them shut again as the brightness of the room she was in made her irises ache. She groaned as she became aware of her body again; her limbs felt heavy, her ribs felt like they had been squeezed to the point of breaking, her throat was dry and her head was pounding. Slowly she tried opening her eyes for a second time, the room was still too bright but this time she blinked the achy feeling away. Hermione scanned the room she was currently lying in; she was unmistakably in Hogwarts infirmary. But she could not come up with a justification for why she was there. The last thing she remembered was being huddled up on her dorm room floor with Crookshanks. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. Had Ginny come back earlier than expected and hit her in the head with the door? She reached up to feel for any obvious bump but found nothing but smooth scalp. Had she fainted? No, that didn’t make sense; people are only unconscious for seconds when they faint. Had she been attacked? That didn’t ring true either, Hogwarts was one of the safest places on earth again since the war. Hermione’s inner monologue was disturbed by a clipped voice.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Madam Pomfrey stated in a matter of fact tone. “I only gave you a mild sleeping draught but you have been out for almost two days.”

Hermione winced as she adjusted her position on her pillows and a pain shot through her aching ribs. “What happened to me?”

“All I can tell you, my dear, is that when you came to me you were unconscious due to the most severe exhaustion and dehydration I have ever come across. It was as if you had been left out in the Sahara for a week. ” The matron replied, she produced her wand from her sleeve and began a series of complicated flicks. The notes from the end of Hermione’s bed floated next to Madame Pomfrey and a quick quotes quill updated her medical details. “Professor Mcgonagall will be very interested to know you’re awake.”

Hermione frowned as she realised that the older woman had pointedly not answered her direct question. She had asked what happened to her not what was wrong with her. The matron, for her part, was making it abundantly clear that she was not about to engage with Hermione anymore about it as she busied herself with her charts. It bothered her that the woman was acting strangely but currently not as much as her dry throat bothered her. “Madam Pomfrey, could I have some water please?”

The older woman’s head snapped up and she looked at Hermione with a confused expression. “Of…of course dear. “ She stuttered before heading to the kitchen area at the back of the infirmary, she looked worriedly back over her shoulder before she left the room.

Hermione laid her head back on her pillows with a sigh and stared straight up at the arched ceiling above her. She tried to think about what had happened to her, but when she did it made her head hurt in a way that was worrying. Before it could bother her too much her thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. She whipped her head around to look at the source of the noise and quickly regretted it as her vision began to swim.

“It’s good to see you awake.” Professor Mcgonagall said with a small smile. “I have to say you had us very worried.”

“I have no idea what happened Professor.” Hermione said equal parts worried and relieved. Worried that she had still not figured out how she ended up in the infirmary and relieved that Mcgonagall was here to finally clear things up.

“Before we go into that, could you tell me your name?” Mcgonagall asked lightly.

Hermione looked at the witch standing in front of her. A woman she had known since she was eleven years old, who had been the first person to show her an act of magic, who had held her as she cried over the loss of her parents, who was now asking her for her name as if they were strangers. She forced herself to really study Professor Mcgonagall and as she did she realised the darker tone to the woman’s hair, the fewer lines and wrinkles adorning her face and the trimmer curve to her physique. The woman who stood in front of her was clearly a much younger version of the person she considered her mentor and dear friend. Hermione allowed her eyes to close as she focused with all of her might on what she could remember from before she had woken up. Again the image of a large ginger cat seemingly randomly filled her mind but this time he was not innocently padding around a dorm room, he was lay on his back playing with a golden trinket. A time turner more specifically. And as if someone had flicked a light switch in her brain she remembered. She remembered the pain as time dragged her body reluctantly into the past. She remembered the fear she had felt as she hurtled towards an unknown era. She remembered the sickening jolt as her world had realigned. And she remembered the sound of the thud her body had made as it hit the floor.

“Professor, what year is this?” Hermione asked her voice raising a few octaves as panic gripped her. She didn’t remember telling her body to do it but she was suddenly trying desperately to free herself from the crisp white sheet so that she could clamber out of the infirmary bed.

Professor Mcgonagall put a calming hand on the young girl’s shoulder, pushing her back against the pillows and gently holding her there. “As I have said, my dear, that is not important right now. I would like to know your name.”

“Hermione Granger.” The bushy haired witch finally revealed.

“It is a pleasure to officially meet you Miss Granger.” Mcgonagall said with a light smile, extending her hand to shake Hermione’s. “Although, I have an inkling that this is not the first time _you_ are meeting _me_.”

Hermione shook her head gently. “No Professor, we have met a great many times in my time.”

“You were in Gryffindor robes when you were found.” The older woman stated with a sense of pride in her voice. “Are you a student here in your time?”

“Yes” Hermione admitted. “I am completing my seventh year.”

“A very important year. Now would you mind explaining something to me?” Mcgonagall asked, waiting with a stern expression for Hermione to give her permission to continue. When she received a worried nod she ploughed on. “How did you come to have my time turner?”

Hermione sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. She really did not want to have to admit to the actions that had led to Professor Mcgonagall lending her the time turner. “I…I needed a new perspective on…an incident that occurred.” The younger girl stumbled over her words. “You allowed me to use your time turner in order to see the events with new eyes.”

“A very vague account of what I’m sure is an interesting tale Miss Granger.” Mcgonagall looked pensive for a second as she observed Hermione with appraising eyes. “And I must say, that seems like a frivolous use for such a powerful object. There are strict rules governing the manipulation of time.”

“I’m aware Professor.” Hermione cut in before the older witch could launch into one of her infamous lectures. “But the world that I came from is very different to this one. The lines between right and wrong have become a little blurred to say the least.”

“That may be so.” Professor Mcgonagall said in a clipped tone. Using her teacher’s voice, a voice she had long since lost when speaking to Hermione. “But I cannot imagine what would have to happen to convince me to entrust my own time turner to a student.”

Hermione smiled lightly, thinking of the warmth and protection that emanated from the Minerva Mcgonagall of her time. “We have been through such a lot together, my Minerva and I. She is very much more than just my professor and I would like to think that I am more than just a student to her.”

Professor Mcgonagall’s heart fluttered unexpectedly at the girl’s use of the term ‘my Minerva’. The affection and respect that this girl held for her future self was palpable in the way that she spoke about her. The older woman did not know why but she was sure, deep down to her very core, that this affection was reciprocated. She could feel a strange ghost of it as she looked at the bushy haired girl in the hospital bed, she seemed older than her years, hardened by the world somehow and yet not defeated. “I must trust you a great deal Miss Granger.”

“A trust I can assure you I have earned Professor.” Hermione said confidently. “A trust I will earn again if you will allow me to.”

“My trust is hard won.” Mcgonagall returned with a hard voice but the trace of a smirk graced her lips. “I will not make you win it twice.”

Hermione could not help the smile that crept on to her face as she caught a glimpse of the Minerva she knew within this younger version. “I remember what happened to me.”

“Do tell Miss Granger. Albus is the fan of mysteries, I deal in pragmatism.” Professor Mcgonagall stated as she perched delicately on the edge of Hermione’s hospital bed.

“I’m embarrassed to say that I was careless with your time turner Professor.” Hermione admitted in a quiet voice. “I left it in reach of my cat Crookshanks and while I was distracted he started playing with it.” She looked up at the older witch who simply nodded for her to continue her story. “I took it from him and thought the safest thing to do would be to wear it until I could return it to you. I was so stupid; I didn’t think for a second that he could have activated it. But he’s half kneazle so I suppose it must have reacted to his magical signature. I didn’t think it was even possible for the time turner to send me back this far. I don’t even know how far back I have travelled but I know it is much farther than is allowed. I have used a time turner many times in my life but never have I been as scared as I was this time. I thought I was going to be torn apart. I’ve heard the horror stories of those who abuse time travel.”

“Take a breath Miss Granger.” Professor Mcgonagall said calmly as she gave the younger girl’s arm a comforting rub. “We will try everything within our power to try and return you to your correct time. But I must warn you, it may not be possible at all.”

“I read a lot Professor. I know there has never been a case of a person being successfully sent forward in time.” Hermione looked down into her lap and squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. She knew there was a very strong possibility that she would never be able to get back to her own time. That she would never be able to see her friends and the people that she loved again. That she would never be able to sit and laugh with Harry and Ron again. That she would never be able to settle into the comforting warmth and chaos of the Burrow again. That she would never hear one of Luna’s insane tales about potentially made up creatures again. That she would never feel a reassuring hug from Ginny again. She thought back on all of the things that she may never get to experience again and she realised how much she had taken them for granted. Assuming that they would always be there for her to call upon when she needed it. But now that she sat, knowing in her heart of hearts, that all of those things were lost to her she felt incredibly lonely. A loneliness she had only ever felt once before, as she had walked away from her childhood home leaving behind two people who no longer knew she existed. She had orphaned herself all over again.

Professor Mcgonagall reached out and gently tipped the bushy haired witch’s head up so that she was looking at her again. “My dear, there was a time when there had never been a case of someone being sent backwards in time. There has to be a first, why can it not be you?”

Hermione nodded and swallowed thickly, she wasn’t sure how much Mcgonagall’s words pacified her. She knew how risky experimental magic could be. She could end up in a worse position than she was now if something went wrong. On top of that she would change the future beyond all possible imagining if she were the one to prove that travelling forward in time was possible. There would be no telling the consequences this could have on the time line. “Professor, please tell me what year it is.”

“It is September 1969.” Mcgonagall said carefully. She watched the younger witch intently, noticing how the girl grew pale at this answer. “What year did you leave behind?”

“1998” Hermione whispered sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you for everyone's Kudos and comments on the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, any feedback is very welcome.


	4. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and Kudos, they are very much appreciated.
> 
> This chapter is a little bit of filler until the end, and then the excitement begins. Our girls finally meet! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Three days Hermione had been cooped up in the Hogwarts infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had made her stay in bed the entire time while she performed every conceivable spell, test and check on her. It was understandable; she had just hurtled almost thirty years into the past. But did she really have to endure three whole days of utter boredom to be told what she already knew, she was fine for now but that was not guaranteed to last. She had spent the entire three days desperate to find out what was going on and if Professor Mcgonagall had a plan for her yet. She knew in her heart that it was ridiculous to hope that the older witch could have made some headway on sending her home but during the hours she had spent unoccupied in her infirmary bed she had found her mind slipping to the idea of home regularly. Would she ever be able to go home? The questioned troubled her. What was home? Hermione had always felt like Hogwarts was her home, its magical hallways and vaulted ceilings were the image that came to mind when she imagined home. And yet here she sat, in Hogwarts and she could not feel more out of place if she tried. Was it the people that crowded the corridors that made the building her home? Was it her friends and peers that filled her with that feeling of warmth and comfort? Yes, time to allow the mind to be idle was not a good thing for Hermione at all. That was why when Madam Pomfrey had told her she was free to leave she had almost whooped with joy and hugged the matron. She had managed to stop herself just at the last moment.

Hermione was under strict instructions to go to the Headmaster’s office as soon as Madam Pomfrey had discharged her, she was not to talk to anyone on the way and she was not to make any detours. So she dutifully trotted as quickly as she could through the, thankfully deserted, hallways heading for the gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. The thought suddenly struck her. . . Dumbledore. She had not seen the man in over a year and the last time she had was when he was lying dead at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. Had that really only been a little over a year ago? How could so much happen in such a short space of time? As she stood staring at the blank eyes of the gargoyle she wondered how she was going to face the man that she now knew so much about. She felt dirty all of a sudden, as if she had invaded his privacy in some way by knowing what she did about him now. Thanks to Rita Skeeta she knew all about his family and his life and loves before Hogwarts and details about his personal life she was sure the Professor didn’t want any of his students to know. Her Gryffindor courage threatened to drain away and she wanted nothing more that to turn and run back to the sterile safety of the Hospital Wing. The option was taken away from her when the stone gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a grinning Professor Dumbledore, the mischievous glint that Hermione remembered present in his blue eyes.

“Miss Granger, I could hear you thinking from upstairs.” Dumbledore said in his gentle voice as he gestured with his arm for her to precede him up the stairs.

Hermione scampered so quickly on to the staircase that she stumbled on the first step and had to catch herself on the wall. Her cheeks glowed pink as she heard Dumbledore’s gravely chuckle behind her. She managed to make it to the top of the spiral staircase with no further incident and entered the headmaster’s office hoping to appear more composed than she felt. Her vision first fell on Professor Mcgonagall and a small smile tugged at her lips at the sight of the woman. Then her eyes slid across to the other person already in the room. Sat bolt upright in the chair next to Mcgonagall was a man who looked to be perhaps in his late twenties, he was wearing formal robes and on his lap was a shiny leather briefcase that he held on to so tightly that his knuckles were white. Fear instantly gripped Hermione, she could tell a Ministry employee from a thousand paces. 

“Take a seat Hermione.” Dumbledore commanded softly as he indicated the empty chair in front of his desk. “And allow me to introduce you to Professor Saul Croaker.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Sir.” Hermione greeted the young man. She hadn’t recognised him when she had looked at him but after hearing Dumbledore speak his name she could see how he could become the man she met at the Quidditch World Cup. His hair was styled in a similar way, although much thicker, and there was a distinctive manner in which he held his mouth.

Dumbledore nodded his approval at Hermione’s manners. “Professor Croaker is..”

“An unspeakable.” Hermione cut in before she could stop herself. “He works for the Department of Mysteries.”

“You really do read a lot don’t you Miss Granger?” Professor Mcgonagall said with a chuckle.

Hermione smiled at Mcgonagall “We have crossed paths in my time.”

Professor Mcgonagall turned to look at Hermione more fully at this admission. “You have crossed paths with an unspeakable? I have the distinct feeling that I am going to have my hands full when you get here.”

Hermione laughed softly. “I’m afraid you might Professor.”

“Well I look forward to formally meeting you in the future Hermione.” Croaker spoke up for the first time. He had an easy smile and a boyish twinkle in his eye, his demeanour was much less formal than his appearance had led Hermione to believe. “But for now we should probably discuss the present. And please don’t call me sir, it makes me feel far too old.”

“Professor Croaker is here to talk about the rules regarding your time here.” Professor Dumbledore clarified.

“Rules?” Hermione questioned nervously.

“Yes. There are strict rules that must be adhered to when someone becomes removed from the correct timeline.” Croaker said as he snapped open his briefcase and began riffling through its contents.

“I’m sorry Professor Croaker. But you say this as though it happens often.” Hermione said, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“More often than you would think actually.” Croaker chuckled as he looked up over his briefcase for a second. “Only last week the Magical Congress in America had to deal with a displacement. Although, I have studied all of the recorded cases of time travel and no British person has ever travelled from as far in the future as you have. There is a theory amongst intellectuals that at some point in the mid-nineties all of the time turners are destroyed for some reason. But you may have just debunked that theory Hermione.”

The young witch couldn’t help but smile at Croaker’s enthusiasm for his chosen field. It was a quality that she admired and respected. “How do you deal with a..a…”

“Displacement.” Croaker offered. “A person who has been displaced from their own timeline.”

“Yes. How do you deal with a displacement?” Hermione asked.

“Aha.” Croaker shouted triumphantly as he pulled out the collection of parchment that he had been rifling through his briefcase to find. “We will get on to that. But first I need to take some details from you. I need to clarify exactly how you got here. Is that ok?”

Hermione nodded, looking worried. “Of course.”

“You don’t need to look so scared Hermione. You’re not in any trouble…yet” Croaked laughed easily and winked across at the bushy haired witch. The action earned him a death glare from Professor Mcgonagall but he quickly defused her emerging anger with a charming smirk.

“Why don’t you stick to the business at hand Mr Croaker?” Professor Mcgonagall ordered stiffly.

“Of course Professor.” Croaker nodded, Hermione was in no doubt that this man was an ex pupil of Hogwarts. And probably one who had found himself on the wrong side of the head of Gryffindor one too many times. “So, I have the time turner you used to travel here Miss Granger. Do you recognise it?”

“Yes” Hermione answered as she peered at the little golden gyroscope Professor Croaker was holding up. It had been placed and sealed into what looked like an evidence bag.

Croaker scribbled something onto his parchment. “And could you tell me who the time turner belongs to?”

Hermione’s eyes flicked nervously towards Dumbledore who smiled warmly and encouragingly back at her. “It belongs to Professor Mcgonagall.”

“That would be Minerva Mcgonagall; Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?” Croaker asked formally.

“Correct.” Hermione nodded as she began nervously picking at the skin around her nails.

Without looking up from his parchment, Croaker ploughed on. “And is that the post Minerva Mcgonagall holds during your time?”

“No.” Hermione swallowed and flicked her eyes first to Mcgonagall who seemed to be shifting uncomfortably in her chair and next to Dumbledore who was wearing the knowing look he so often donned. “She is the Headmistress.”

Croaker nodded approvingly at this piece of information as he furiously made notes on the parchment. “Could you tell me the nature of your relationship with Minerva Mcgonagall?”

“I’m sorry. The nature of my relationship? I don’t understand how this is relevant.” Hermione said, her discomfort at being under the spotlight making itself known.

“I think I will field this one Saul, if you don’t mind.” Professor Dumbledore spoke up for the first time since introducing Croaker to the room. “It is not easy to travel this far through time Miss Granger. We must be able to prove within all reasonable doubt that this was truly an accident. Many powerful witches and wizards have attempted to manipulate time for their own ends. It is a very dangerous game.”

“I’m aware of that Professor, which is why the Hour-Reversal Charm was placed upon time turners to ensure that they were all limited to five hours. With this in mind, I don’t understand how I was able to travel twenty nine years into the past.” Hermione ranted, her voice becoming shrill as she got more upset.

Croaker cleared his throat. “I may be able to answer that. I only know of two ways in which the Hour-Reversal Charm can be nullified. Firstly should the time turner used be unregistered meaning the charm was never placed upon, which we know is not the case here. Secondly if the Ministry were to fall.” All eyes turned to Hermione who all of a sudden found her fingernails incredibly interesting. “The Hour-Reversal Charm is a restriction put in place by the authorities to ensure that the time turner’s power is not misused. With the ministry gone the time turner’s magic would be free to show its full potential.”

“Yes…well. That explains a lot.” Hermione said cryptically, never breaking her gaze with her finger nails. She knew the danger that was attached to giving too much information away about the future. How one slip of the tongue could change the entire world as she knew it. “Getting back to the question you asked Mr Croaker, Professor Mcgonagall was my transfiguration teacher and then she became a mentor of sorts. Now I would class her as much more than that. You see I lost my parents in horrible circumstances and she is where I turn for advice now, her office in Hogwarts is where I go to feel warmth and comfort and she is who I strive to make proud.”

Professor Mcgonagall reached over and squeezed Hermione’s arm trying her best to provide the girl, who was a perfect stranger to her, with some comfort. Yet again the older witch found herself moved by the words of the bushy haired girl in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. “I look forward to the day that I become those things for you Miss Granger.”

Croaker’s line of questioning, or interrogation, went on this way for another half an hour while the Ministry man established exactly what had happened and why. There were many moments where Hermione had felt so uncomfortable that she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. But she knew that there were procedures that needed to be followed and boxes that needed to be ticked. She was astute enough to notice the palpable change in atmosphere in the room as Croaker’s questions slowed down and Hermione’s story came to end. All three adults before her had begun to make eye contact with her less and less and Mcgonagall in particular looked significantly uncomfortable. Her face had taken on a permanent scowl and she was shifting in her seat with increasing regularity. Hermione almost wanted to scream at them all and demand that they tell her exactly what was going on, that they tell her what they were obviously keeping from her.

“Well Hermione, that’s all that I need for my paperwork.” Croaker said finally with a half-hearted smile. “But now I’m afraid we must move on to the difficult part.”

“The difficult part?” Hermione questioned nervously. Had he thought that this part was easy for her? Having every decision and every conversation she’d had in the twenty-four hours before she arrived here picked apart by this man she didn’t even know.

“Yes, there are very strict rules that must be adhered to when a person becomes displaced.” Professor Dumbledore began in his soft yet business like tone. Despite the fact that he was being kind Hermione couldn’t help but feel angered by the phrase ‘strict rules’. What were there strict rules that everyone kept mentioning but refusing to talk about?

Mcgonagall’s posture changed suddenly, her back becoming ram rod straight. “Is there any way we can tackle this delicately gentlemen?”

Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Of course Minerva, I forget myself sometimes. Why don’t you begin to explain to Miss Granger what is happening?”

“Miss Granger.” Mcgonagall began, turning her full attention to the younger witch for the first time. “When we spoke in the Hospital Wing you mentioned that you have read a lot around time travel.”

“Yes Professor.” Hermione answered. “I have had a lot of experience with time travel in my life.”

Mcgonagall nodded and seemed to weigh up her next comment. “You also mentioned that you are not aware of a case where a person has successfully been sent forwards in time.”

“Professor” Hermione called out as squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the ringing that had begun in her ears. She knew what Mcgonagall was building up to, she knew the woman well enough to know when she was attempting to come up with a way to cushion a blow. Her head was spinning and she had the horrendous feeling like she might faint. She took a few deep calming breaths before she carried on. “I can’t do this. I can’t talk around this topic. I need you to answer my question honestly.” She waited for Mcgonagall to nod her agreement to her request. “I’m not going home am I?”

“No. No Miss Granger you are not going home.” Mcgonagall said thickly as she tried to swallow back the emotion that flared up inside her at the broken look on Hermione’s face. “I am so very, very sorry.”

“Hermione.” Croaker’s voice broke through the haze in her mind as the reality of her current situation began to sink in. “If I can explain a little. It is not impossible for us to send you back to your time. We have found through the years that when we attempt to send those who are displaced back to where they came from we begin to do damage to time itself.”

“Like Eloise Mintumble” Hermione said hollowly, her brain and mouth working of their own accord. She didn’t care about Eloise Mintumble or time itself for the matter right now. All she really cared about was the fact that she wasn’t going to see the people that she loved again. That she was stuck here in a time that she didn’t understand with complete strangers.

“Exactly, Eloise died due to hyper-aging and many people were unborn. Not to mention the effect on time itself; Tuesday lasted two and a half days and Thursday merely lasted four hours.” Croaker explained. “We cannot risk the damage to time or to your own health should we send you back.”

“I understand.” Hermione sighed shakily as she fought with all of her resolve to not cry. “What’s to become of me now?”

“Miss Granger.” Dumbledore spoke up again. “You will stay here with us. Hogwarts has always provided a safe haven for those with nowhere else to turn.”

“Thank you Professor.” Hermione replied. She hoped that her voice showed some of her gratitude at being allowed to stay at Hogwarts and not just the despair she felt at being someone ‘with nowhere else to turn’.

“It is our pleasure. And of course you will be more than welcome to finish your seventh year with us here.” Dumbledore smiled and fixed his gaze on the bushy haired witch over the top of his half-moon glasses.

“But Professor, what about the transcripts from my earlier years at Hogwarts? Without those anything I achieve will be unrecognised.” Hermione asked earnestly, she wanted desperately to finish her education but she wanted even more desperately to not waste her time. “And I’ll be nineteen in a week, I’m a year older than all of the other students.”

“Let me worry about the finer details, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore answered with a soft smile. “Now should we get down to discussing our plan for you?”

Hermione nodded her head resolutely. “Yes please.”

“You are to become Hermione Ross, a transfer student from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France. The story will be that you have moved to Hogwarts due to a disagreement with your parents which resulted in you moving in with your distant relative Professor Mcgonagall.” Dumbledore explained.

Professor Mcgonagall nodded, picking up on her cue to take over the explanation. “Ross was my mother’s maiden name; although her family was not pure blood they were very proud of the fact that they could trace their untainted magical blood through eight generations. When my mother decided to marry a muggle her parents were so furious that they severed all ties with her. But her brother, my uncle, did not agree with his parent’s treatment of his sister so in order to distance himself from them he accepted a job within Liechtenstein’s Ministry of Magic. Little is known of him after this, which works in our favour.”

“So I am to pose as his daughter?” Hermione asked.

“We thought it would be more believable if you were to pose as his granddaughter.” Professor Dumbledore clarified.

Hermione nodded her understanding at this. “Did he even have any children?”

“We don’t know.” Mcgonagall admitted. “But if we don’t know, neither does anybody else. This allows us the opportunity to put ‘your father’ forward as an unspeakable.”

“This simple twisting of the truth gives you a get out of jail free card Miss Granger.” Dumbledore said in his usual cryptic manner.

“How so Professor?” Hermione enquired.

The grey haired wizard chuckled softly. “Because it means you are simply not allowed to talk about your family.”

Croaker nodded his agreement. “The fewer details you can give the better. Be a woman of mystery.” He added at the end with a smirk.

“Yes, but do not isolate yourself Hermione.” Professor Mcgonagall countered with a stern look thrown at Croaker. “Remember that she must make a life for herself here.”

“In deed she must Minerva, I completely agree.” Croaker said although his agreement sounded much more like an argument. “But there are strict rules that must be placed on the life that she leads from now on.”

“I am not a fool, I understand that.” Mcgonagall almost shouted. “But I will not sit idly by and watch your rules diminish the girl’s existence.”

“My hands are tied and you know that.” Croaked returned, his voice beginning to rise as well. “She is here now and she must behave appropriately.”

“Oh come on Saul. You forget that I know you of old.” Mcgonagall bellowed. “You have never been one to stick to the rules.”

“Please.” Hermione called before Croaker could respond again. “Don’t talk about me as if I am not here.”

“I’m sorry Miss Granger.” Mcgonagall declared, a look of genuine remorse morphing her features.

“It’s ok Professor, I know that it comes from a good place.” Hermione nodded. “Now, Mr Croaker I have spent almost the last hour hearing about these strict rules that are to govern my life from now on. Would you like to clarify what they are?”

“Of course Hermione.” Croaker replied, although he did not apologise he at least had the good grace to look embarrassed about his behaviour. “We have covered the first stipulation; that you must take on a new identity so that you cause as little damage to the timeline as possible. With that in mind you also must not take on a career in which you invent new things like spells, potions or magical objects. Everything must happen as it did and you must not benefit financially from your time travel. You must not tell anyone that you are from the future; that fact will stay between the four of us and the Department of Mysteries. Even the Minister for Magic will not be privy to information about your true identity. And the final rule is always the most difficult to discuss.”

“Please tread carefully with this Saul.” Mcgonagall pleaded as her eyes flicked to the bushy haired witch who was now looking distinctly over whelmed.

Croaker sighed and cleared his throat nervously. “Well Hermione, in the interest of preserving the timeline as much as is possible we must request, no demand really that you do not have any of your own children. We cannot risk the disruption that this could cause; we have no idea how much a child born in the wrong time could change the fate of all of those around it. We can’t calculate for the impact of a child who would technically be older than it’s parent.”

“That seems….I’m….I can’t really….” Hermione stuttered as she attempted to force her emotions down. She hadn’t even thought about children yet, she had never been completely sure that she even wanted them. But now that she was told that she couldn’t have any no matter what she decided she couldn’t seem to force down the utter disappointment she felt. Would she be able to build a life in which the absence of children was never felt or would she spend the rest of her life feeling unfulfilled because she could never become a mother. She thought about the women in her life. On one side of the spectrum was Molly Weasley with her seven children that she lived for on the other was Minerva Mcgonagall who had never had children but had found a way to fill her life to the brim. She wasn’t sure which woman she was most similar too, right now she hoped with everything within herself that she could be like Mcgonagall. “That is reasonable I suppose Mr Croaker.”

Professor Dumbledore stood up from behind his desk. “I think that will do for today. Miss Granger, or should I say Miss Ross, has had more than enough information thrown her way.” The wizard turned his full attention towards Hermione. “I’m sure you would be happy to have some space to mull this over.”

“Yes please Professor.” Hermione almost sighed in relief, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the river of tears that were threatening to spill held back.

“I’ll show you to your quarters.” Mcgonagall offered in a clipped tone as she stood as well and headed for the door seemingly unable to look at Hermione at all.

* * *

Hermione’s room turned out to be in the teacher’s quarters, an area of Hogwarts she had never been before. Dumbledore had thought it was prudent to keep the young witch separate from the general populous for the time being, while the finer details of her story were worked out. Mcgonagall had escorted her out in the evenings to walk the grounds and get some fresh air but other than that she had only really been permitted to leave her room in order to meet with Professor Dumbledore in his office. The first time she had been summoned was to sign paperwork for the Ministry of Magic in which she formally agreed to the terms that had been laid out by Saul Croaker in their earlier meeting. The second time was to receive her school robes and timetable, after much discussion it had been decided that it wasn’t sensible for Hermione to continue as a Gryffindor, much to her own and Professor Mcgonagall’s disappointment, and the only logical place for her was Ravenclaw. To begin with the idea had made her baulk, she had always been fiercely proud to be a Gryffindor and had never even considered being a part of any other house. But as she had been left to stew on it in her room all day she began to see the logic in it. She would risk coming into contact with too many people from her future in Gryffindor and really she could do worse than Ravenclaw. At least Professor Dumbledore hadn’t suggested Slytherin, she wasn’t sure if she would survive in those dark, damp dungeons that they call their home.

That was how the following Monday Hermione found herself stood outside of the potions classroom door wearing her school robes which were discomfortingly lined with blue and the still foreign feeling blue and silver striped tie. She stood staring at the heavy wooden door trying to convince herself to knock, but for some reason all of her Gryffindor bravery seemed to have abandoned her now that she was in a different uniform. She took a deep breath; she was five minutes late, a detail which had been suggested by Dumbledore to make it seem as though she was truly new to the castle.

“Just do it.” Hermione muttered to herself. “It’s not that hard, just knock on the door.”

* * *

Bellatrix was rushing through the deserted dungeon corridors; running late. . . again and all because of her damned hair. Thankfully she was only late for Slughorn’s Potions lesson a level below the Slytherin common room. She knew that she had the rotund Potions Master wrapped around her little finger; she could get away with anything if she batted her eyelashes and shot him a sweet smile. Her mother had demanded that this year she start taking more pride in her appearance because according to her, at seventeen, she was a woman now. But not just any woman, a pure-blood woman and as such there were certain standards she would be held to. One of those was being immaculately turned out at all times. Bellatrix thought it was ridiculous, she didn’t understand how her appearance made any difference what so ever. She was one of the brightest witches in her year; she was predicted ‘Outstanding’ in all of her NEWTs, she was an exceptional duellist and she had perfected many non-verbal spells while her peers were still struggling with Wingardium Leviosa. On top of all of this she was a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, any man would be lucky to win her as his bride. Not that Bellatrix was interested in getting married but she knew that her mother was concerned with making sure that she married into a reputable and respected pure-blood family. Her parents had her entire life planned out for her and she was sure that they already had her husband picked out, much to her irritation. She could tell a respectable pure-blood match much better than her parents; she would certainly pick someone worthier than the spineless Lucius Malfoy that they allowed to sniff around her sister Narcissa. It would be a cold day in hell before she would allow her little sister to marry that toad.

As Bellatrix trotted down the staircase that led to the potions classroom she heard something that stopped her in her tracks and dragged her out of her reverie; a human voice. Surely another student wasn’t late to class as well? The castle was too full of goody two shoes that were too worried about disappointing the great Albus Dumbledore for that to happen. The place hadn’t been nearly as interesting since Fabian and Gideon Prewitt had left.

“It’s not that hard, just knock on the door.” The female voice whispered, the girl obviously talking more to herself than anyone else.

Bellatrix carefully crept down another step so that she could peer around the corner and put a face to the disembodied voice. She caught a glimpse of bushy hair and instantly knew who the voice belonged to; the new girl. She had seen the new girl prowling the grounds at night while being vigilantly supervised by Professor Mcgonagall. The girl had been in the castle all last week but this was the first time she had turned up in lessons. Bellatrix knew the girl had been here a week thanks to her nightly routine of sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower. From her vantage point high up above the rest of the castle she could see the entirety of the school grounds and therefore was privy to the nocturnal comings and goings of the other inhabitants. Bellatrix loved her time on the Astronomy Tower she would carefully perch as close as she dared to the edge and allow her feet to hang freely over the side of the building. Up there on her own with the wind whipping around her she felt free, free to be herself and surround herself with her own thoughts without the worry of someone listening in. She could think about what she would do with her life if she had not been born into a pure-blood family, what she would do were she to be in charge of her own destiny. The Astronomy Tower was where Bellatrix left her deepest, darkest desires, where she thought through and then abandoned aspirations for a life she would never be allowed to live.

Taking a deep breath Bellatrix stepped out into the corridor the girl was standing in; she drew herself up to her full height. “Talking to yourself in the corridors isn’t going to win you many friends new girl.” She said, trying her best to sound cocky and confident.

Hermione managed to stifle the gasp that threatened to erupt from her mouth at the unexpected interruption to her thoughts. Her head snapped around to look at the person who had just sauntered into the corridor she was occupying. The girl stood a few meters away from her seemingly appraising her. The first thing Hermione noticed was that she was wearing Slytherin robes; her crisp, white shirt was buttoned perfectly to the collar, her green and silver tie was fastened flawlessly and looked as if it had been painstakingly centralised and her shoes were polished to a high shine. Hermione’s eyes moved away from the girl’s body to look at her face; her perfect uniform seemed to be in total juxtaposition with the unruly black curls the girl had obviously tried to tame into a bun on top of her head with little success as random locks had dropped out around her face and across her forehead. This odd mix didn’t seem to take anything away from the girl’s beauty though, if anything the slight imperfection only enhanced it. Her profile was undoubtedly aristocratic with a perfect slope to her nose, strong jawline and high cheekbones. She could almost look masculine but her full, pouty lips that turned up in the corners into a permanent superior smirk made her look distinctly feminine. Finally Hermione’s eyes fluttered up to the girl’s; her strong, defined eyebrows drew you into her dark eyes which were beautifully framed by thick black lashes. But it was here, at the girl’s eyes, that Hermione’s mind began to stall. She recognised this girl. There was something in the glint in her eyes and the way that they narrowed as they attempted to read her that was disquietingly recognisable. And suddenly all of the pieces of the puzzle fit together; the slytherin robes, the mass of black hair and those eyes. She was looking at a much younger, much more beautiful Bellatrix Lestrange, or Black as she would be right now.

Bellatrix watched as the surprised expression spread across the other girl’s features but quickly recovered turning to face the black haired witch. As she did so she subconsciously raised her chin and puffed her chest out. Bellatrix knew this to be a sign that the girl was trying to seem more confident than she felt. She knew this because it was a pose she regularly struck at her parent’s social gatherings where she was shown off like a prize heifer up for auction to Britain’s pure-blood elite. The bushy haired witch’s eyebrows pulled together delicately and she narrowed her eyes as she tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, obviously evaluating her. Bellatrix took the opportunity to return the favour; although the new girl had tried to arrange her posture so that she looked composed and collected her toes still pointed inwards slightly in a way that the black haired witch found unexplainably endearing. Bellatrix quirked her eyebrow as she took in the girl’s Ravenclaw robes, she was slightly disappointed the girl wasn’t in Slytherin but at least she wasn’t a Gryffindor. It was obvious from the way that the robes hung and how uncomfortable the girl looked in them that they were brand new. Where had this girl come from? Bellatrix loved to acquire knowledge and the fact that this girl was a mystery to her bothered her. If she was new to Hogwarts that meant she must have attended one of the schools on the continent; Beauxbatons, Durmstrang or maybe even Koldovstoretz. Where had she come from? Bellatrix’s gaze finally made it to the girl’s face; her bone structure was delicate and almost elfin. But that delicacy stopped at her features, although they were fine and feminine the girl held her face in a way that made her look determined and wilful. At first glance the girl could be mistaken for a wilting wallflower but there was something about the fire in her dark eyes that said she would not go down without a fight. She looked like she could be a challenge and there was nothing that Bellatrix loved more than someone who challenged her. She came across them so infrequently after all.

“Well are you going to go in or are you going to just stare at me all day?” Bellatrix decided to test her theory and see how far she could push the girl straight away.

“I….Ye…I.” Hermione swallowed thickly as an unexplained fear gripped her, it was clear to see that this girl was a million miles away from the insane figure she was to become. Her voice was a few octaves lower than the childish voice she was used to hearing emanate from the dark haired witch.

Bellatrix sighed and shook her head in disappointment. Maybe she had read the girl wrong and she was just as pathetic as all of the other ants that swarmed around this castle. “Move” she demanded as she reached for the handle and swiftly opened the door bumping into Hermione slightly. The jolt seemed to clear the fog in Hermione’s mind and she scrambled to follow the other girl into the potions classroom.

“Ahhh, Miss Black. What a pleasure it is for you to join us.” Professor Horace Slughorn called from the front of the classroom causing all of the heads in the room to turn curiously towards the two girls who were stood only inches apart. “And it appears you’ve brought along a friend.”

Bellatrix threw on one of the smiles that she knew always won Slughorn over and saw an opportunity to test out the new girl again. The girl was stood so close to her that she could feel her body heat and smell her perfume, she smelled like vanilla. “Yes Professor. I apologise for being late but you see I was helping our new student find the room. She had gotten terribly lost.”

“No I…” Hermione began but was cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs courtesy of the black haired witch. Both of their heads snapped towards each other in synchronisation; Hermione scowled at the other girl but her look was met by a murderous one from Bellatrix and she quickly decided that it would be wise to pick her battles.

Meanwhile Bellatrix could have jumped for joy. The girl had bitten back, finally someone who might challenge her. She almost felt bad for elbowing the girl in the ribs. . .almost. The girl had thrown her a look filled with fire and she’d had to fight with herself not to smirk as she returned her look.

“Wonderful, wonderful.” Slughorn beamed, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange that had taken place. “Your hospitality can cancel out the house points I was going to deduct from Slytherin as a result of you being late. Now, take your seat Miss Black.”

“Thank you Professor.” Bellatrix grinned again at Slughorn, she could feel the tension that filled the girl. She wasn’t entirely sure why it happened but she was pretty sure it had something to do with her, she decided to cash in on it. Bellatrix looked over her shoulder and threw the girl a wink; she stayed looking at her just long enough to see the bushy haired witch clench her jaw and stiffen her back.

“So, you are my new student?” Professor Slughorn asked rhetorically but Hermione nodded in response anyway. Finally Slughorn had asked the question Bellatrix had been dying to ask, but of course she couldn’t because that would ruin her aloof image. “You are very welcome Miss….?”

“Erm…Ross” Hermione stumbled, her new name not quite rolling off her tongue just yet. “Hermione Ross.”

Hermione’s nervous stutter made Bellatrix pause for a second, yet again today she was finding the girl surprisingly endearing. Her nervousness was sweet somehow and ignited a protective instinct in her that usually only stretched to her sisters.

“Wonderful, wonderful.” Slughorn repeated with the same inane beaming smile he had sported earlier. “The only seat that we have left is right in the back with Miss Black. But considering she has already made such an effort to assist you I am sure that will be fine. Miss Black is very proficient at Potions she will be able to help you along quite nicely.”

Bellatrix heart skipped a beat; the girl, Hermione, was going to be sitting next to her. More than likely for the rest of the school year too. Why did that thought make her feel mildly excited? She had barely said two words to this girl but she was already hooked. Bellatrix didn’t like people, she didn’t have friends. The closest she got to having friends was her sister Andromeda and yet she felt oddly drawn to this girl as though they were already connected somehow. And wait. . . did Slughorn just say she was proficient at potions? Proficient? She was excellent at potions, the best in the class and she had been since her first year.

Hermione wanted to shake the chubby little man in front of her, was he really so stupid that he didn’t see that Bellatrix was manipulating him? Obviously she had always had a knack of making people bend to her will, her methods just become more brutal as she had gotten older. “Of course, that sounds lovely Professor.” She ground out the lie between gritted teeth as she turned and headed for the seat next to Bellatrix. A feeling of dread filled her chest as she realised that she was at risk of having to spend a large amount of time with the person that still haunted her dreams on a regular basis.

Bellatrix had hoped that the bushy haired girl might be different from everyone else at this school; different from all of her peers who hated her on speck simply for being a Black. But if the look of distain that Hermione was throwing at her was anything to go by her hopes were well and truly dashed. She tried to write their distance off as jealousy but deep down she knew it was because of her family’s affiliation to the Dark Arts. She had come to Hogwarts hoping to find people that she could connect with, maybe even call friends. But by the end of the first week it became clear to Bellatrix that a reputation preceded her, a reputation that no one seemed able to discount or willing to look past. So instead of fighting it she decided to live up to it, she had decided to become the intimidating, cold bitch people expected her to be. Bellatrix rolled her eyes as she tried to fight down the disappointment that she felt and did what she did best. She threw up the walls that she spent her life hiding behind and tried to make it seem as though she didn’t care at all, hoping that if she believed it enough so would everyone else. “Well, Ermross. Let’s hope you are better at potions than you are at opening doors.”


	5. Potions partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but this is one of my favourite chapters in the entire story...but nothing really happens. It is 100% Bellamione though so that's a win!

“Arhhh, now where was I?” Professor Slughorn asked the class rhetorically. “Oh, yes yes. I was in the middle of discussing the potion we will be brewing today. Its first documented use was in the late 10th century by a wizard named Samuel Plunkett who used it to terrorise a muggle village. There have been various iterations of this potion throughout history but by far the most successful to date is the version developed by Zygmunt Budge in the 1500s. Does anyone know which potion I am referring to or do we need some more clues?” The benign smile on Slughorn’s face faltered for a second as two hands in the back of the room shot up at the same time. He chuckled as though this was the funniest sight he had ever seen in his life. “I was hoping that I would get to have a little more fun, I should have known better than to think I could outsmart you Miss Black. But it seems as though you may have some competition for top of the class today. Miss Ross would _you_ like to tell us which potion we will be brewing today?”

Bellatrix threw the bushy haired witch a look that was a mixture of impressed and annoyed, Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as a result of the other girl’s dangerous look. But quickly the look changed to a smirk and Bellatrix gestured with her head for the other girl to go ahead and answer. Hermione took a deep breath before launching into her hurried response. “The potion you are referring to is _Shrinking Solution_ which allows the drinker to take on a younger form until the antidote is taken. Most predominantly it is used in the mass transportation of livestock as moving them in a younger, smaller state is considered to be more humane.”

“Fantastic fantastic.” Slughorn beamed. “A perfect answer Miss Ross. Bellatrix, do you have anything you would like to add?”

“Yes Sir.” Bellatrix replied trying to mask her surprise at the fact that there might be somebody in the classroom who could challenge her intellect. “ _Shrinking Solution_ is typically brewed one of two ways; in the orthodox manner, which would have been used by the likes of Samuel Plunkett and is still the preferred method for many today. Or it is brewed using Budge’s method in which the potion is stirred immediately after adding the first ingredient. His theory was that it creates a much more potent result.”

“My My ladies. Did you two swallow a textbook this morning?” Slughorn asked in a teasing tone, rubbing his chubby hands together in glee. Both girls rolled their eyes subtly but chuckled lightly to appease the man. “Ten points to each of you for providing an excellent segue into the next part of my lesson.” He turned to now address the class as a whole. “As Miss Ross identified, today you will all be attempting to brew _Shrinking Solution._ And as Miss Black suggested you will have some choices to make, not only in the brewing method but in which type of cauldron you will use and how you will treat your ingredients. Now, one person from your pair come up and collect your ingredient list and the other go and choose a cauldron, off you go.” The rotund Professor dismissed the class with an extravagant flourish of his arms.

As the rest of the class scuttled off to do as the Potions Master asked, Bellatrix turned to look at Hermione with a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. “Impressive ErmRoss. It’s about time that this school acquired someone else with two brain cells to rub together.”

Hermione shook her head at the annoying nickname, young Bellatrix really seemed to like pushing people’s buttons and her nerves were currently raw enough to allow it to get to her. “If you took the time to remove your head from your backside you would realise that you have never been the only person in this classroom with talent. You have just always been too conceited to see that fact.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, she didn’t know much about the Bellatrix that stood in front of her right now. But she knew she could not be a million miles away from the person she would become and the Death Eater would never allow someone to disrespect her this way.

A deep, throaty laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, the sound was rich and melodic and so unlike the cackle that her adult counterpart had become synonymous with. Bellatrix fought to control the rush of joy she felt at finally finding someone who was willing to stand up to her. While Hermione fought to not over analyse the odd fluttering that had begun low in her belly at the sound of the dark haired witch’s laugh.

“Which one of my wonderful contemporaries do you suggest I extract my head long enough to observe, hmmm?” Bellatrix asked as she fought to control her mirth but not quite managing to put a stop to her smile. “Maybe your fellow Ravenclaw, Sybil Trelawney who spends so much of her time looking for answers in the sky that she has no idea what day it is? Or maybe that pest Skeeter who besmirches the good name of Slytherin by buzzing around and sticking her nose into everyone else’s business? Or maaaaaaybe that useless fool Amos Diggory who has added one ingredient to his potion and it is already eating a hole in the side of his cauldron?”

Hermione looked around the classroom at the other students; she had to admit they were a fairly pitiful lot. Two Gryfindors had somehow managed to set fire to their desk and were frantically trying to put it out with the help of Slughorn. Over the other side of the classroom a Slytherin girl was in the middle of untangling a caterpillar from her hair with very little luck. And as Bellatrix had pointed out the side of Amos Diggory’s cauldron was indeed slowly disintegrating, not that he seemed to have noticed. But Hermione was not about to admit to how inept those around her actually looked, she crossed her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes looking every inch the know-it -all. “Well Amos Diggory is one step ahead of us then isn’t he? We have neither a cauldron nor our ingredient list.”

“Those things can be easily fixed. But there is _no_ cure for lack of skill.” Bellatrix smirked smugly as she slipped off her stool and sauntered towards Slughorn’s desk, glaring at the other students as she passed them.

“I guess I’ll get the cauldron.” Hermione muttered quietly to herself.

“Good idea ErmRoss.” The black haired witch called over her shoulder. “And don’t get a copper one or we’ll end up with poison rather than a _shrinking solution_.”

Hermione huffed indignantly as she made her way to the cauldron storeroom. “Of course I won’t get a copper cauldron. Who would be stupid enough to choose a copper cauldron when using Caterpillar blood?” As she finished speaking she smiled apologetically at two Slytherin boys who were fighting, in vain, to stop their potion from crawling over the rim of their own copper cauldron. She carefully selected a heavy based brass cauldron and set about lumbering it back to where Bellatrix was now waiting for her.

“Brass” Bellatrix announced as she took the cauldron from an obviously struggling Hermione and deposited it onto their desk with ease. “An interesting choice.”

“It has thermal conductivity so we can remove all outside heat source and still keep the potion warm and it is resistant to corrosion so we will not suffer from anyone else’s failed attempts at potion making.” Hermione defended herself, assuming that the comment was a jibe being directed her way by the future Death Eater.

Bellatrix smirked that damned smirk again. “It wasn’t a criticism. I was simply trying to point out that most people would have chosen pewter.”

“I guess I am not like most people.” The bushy haired witch replied, as she attempted to hide her unexplained blush from the other girl. Surely Bellatrix Lestra…Black had not just complemented her? Even if it was in a very strange, round-about way. The dark haired witch was infamous for her sense of superiority; she thought she was better than everyone. She particularly thought she was better than muggle borns, but this Bellatrix had no idea that she was a muggle born at all. As far as the black haired witch was concerned she was Hermione Ross and a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would surely recognise a pureblood name.

“You certainly are not like most people.” Bellatrix whispered softly as she smiled a genuine smile at the pink glow in Hermione’s cheeks. Again she was struck by how endearing she found the girl in front of her, somehow she found this fiery and stubborn girl cute and she was not sure she had ever found anything cute before in her life. She was drawn to her in a way that she couldn’t explain, she was like a tricky knot that she was compelled to pick loose.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly, she was sure she had heard the other girl say something but she hadn’t been able to make out exactly what it had been. The more she thought about all of the things that the other girl might have muttered the less sure she became that she actually wanted to know so she decided to change the subject swiftly. “Do you have a preference on which method we use to brew the potion?”

Bellatrix gave Hermione an appraising look; she tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes as she weighed up her next move. “You decide.”

A gentle crease appeared between Hermione’s eyebrows as she thought about the best course of action. Their whole interaction since they had met in the corridor had been like a fencing match, as Bellatrix lunged she parried. And despite the fact that she was looking at the face of someone she had grown to despise the part of her that was always so eager to please desperately wanted to give the right answer. She thought back to the essay she had written on shrinking potions back in her third year for Professor Snape. “We should use Budge’s method.” She had not allowed herself much time to think about her old potions master but now that her mind had wandered to him she was struck by a distinct pain in her chest. The man had given up his whole life to be a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix and had never got an ounce of credit for it. She thought about his talents in potions and the Half-Blood Prince’s copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ that she had studied while it was in Harry’s possession. “But I want to make some adaptations of my own.”

“No offence ErmRoss but I don’t know you from a hippogriff and you expect me to trust your potion making skills based on zero evidence?” Bellatrix asked incredulously with a dry laugh. “I’m the top of this class and I have been since the beginning of my first year. I will not allow that to be jeopardised.”

“I received an O in my Potions O.W.L, I will have you know.” Hermione fired back defensively. “I am not going to jeopardise anything at all.”

“How do I know that whatever second rate school you came from doesn’t just hand out O’s to anyone with a pretty face.” Bellatrix challenged, half trying to push the girl’s buttons and half trying to trick the girl into giving her more information about herself.

Hermione felt something inside herself flare up. She wanted to scream in the other girl’s face, to ask her how dare she assume that she had not earned her grade fairly. She had worked twice as hard as everybody else in her year, taking twice the amount of classes and all alongside believing that her best friend was being pursued by a crazed murderer. But instead she took a deep calming breath and thought about her new identity and the story she had to put forward to the world now; a story that did not include surviving a wizarding war. “Beauxbatons is hardly a second rate school. It has produced as many noteworthy witches and wizards as Hogwarts.”

The corner of Bellatrix’s mouth quirked up slightly; she had got her way, Hermione had divulged information about herself without even realising she’d done it. “I should have known you were a Beauxbatons girl, they are renowned for their arrogance.”

“Oh really?” Hermione snapped the acrid toxin of anger rising in the back of her throat as quickly as it had disappeared. “And I had heard it was Slytherin House who were known for their arrogant attitude.”

“That is one description for us I suppose. Alongside cunning, determined and… devastatingly brilliant.” Bellatrix mocked, she could hardly control her glee, she was enjoying the fact this that this new girl was so willing to bite back. So willing to challenge her. “But our shared arrogance aside, talk is cheap ErmRoss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked, trying to gauge the expression on the black haired witch’s face.

Bellatrix out right smiled this time. “If I am going to risk my reputation through your…adaptation did you call them? I want something in return.”

Hermione glared at the other witch, silently challenging her to continue; when no further reply was forthcoming she spoke. “And what could you possibly need from me?”

“Need? Oh no, I don’t _need_ anything from you. But I want something.” Bellatrix clarified coldly, sounding almost like the Death Eater she would come. “You are close to that crone Mcgonagall and she has a nasty habit of setting Transfiguration essays which take up far too much of my time. If we do this your way and it goes wrong… you write my next Transfiguration essay.”

“No.” Hermione all but shrieked. “I will not be doing any of your homework. It’s… it’s cheating.”

“It would only be _cheating_ if you actually had to do the essay.” Bellatrix pushed. “And if you are as good as you say you are that won’t happen.”

“Still no.” Hermione demanded. “I don’t want to play your silly game.”

“I knew it.” Bellatrix said, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “You know that if I allow these adaptations the potion will all go wrong.”

“That is not what I said.” Hermione scrambled.

“If you are so sure that your method will work, what will be the harm?” Bellatrix continued to goad the bushy haired witch; she could see that her resolve was beginning to fray around the edges.

This girl really was infuriating; from her near constant cocky smirk and arrogant air to the annoying nickname she had given to Hermione and the ability to push all of her buttons with relative ease. There were many things that Hermione could brush off but a jibe at her academic ability was not one of them. “Fine, have it your way ErmBlack, go and fill the cauldron and I’ll start preparing the ingredients.”

Bellatrix grinned and threw Hermione a mock salute and a wink before she marched off to prepare the cauldron. Hermione rolled her eyes and internally questioned how she was going to get through, potentially, a year with the future Death Eater as her potions partner. Particularly if the girl was determined to test her at every turn. Deciding not to dwell on that thought for too long she set off to collect the first few items they would need for their _Shrinking Solution._ By the time she returned back to the desk the other girl already had the cauldron ready and simmering.

“So, what’s first boss?” Bellatrix asked sarcastically as she reached out and picked up the knife from their desk. “I can do the chopping and dicing, I’m pretty handy with a knife.”

Bellatrix’s comment hit Hermione like a hard punch to the gut and she almost doubled over from the impact of it. She knew first-hand just how _handy_ this person could be with a knife, she still had the painful scar on her arm to prove it. She looked at the young witch, who was now casually twiddling with the knife; the beautiful features that made up her face began to morph as she looked at her. Her full cheeks seemed to become gaunt, her eyes became sunken, her hair lost its lustre, the loose curls around her face frizzed, her plump lips became a thin line and before Hermione’s eyes the girl became the creature that often frequented her nightmares. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing all should could focus on was the confused look in the crazed Death Eaters eyes. Her throat felt like it was constricting as if those claw-like hands were back around her neck; each breath she took elicited a sharp pain through her chest. As the fear and lack of oxygen started to register in her numb brain she saw stars erupt in the peripheries of her vision and a piercing ringing sounded in her ears. She had felt like this many times since the war had ended and hoped her old tactics for pulling herself out of it worked here. She wasn’t sure her reputation would recover from fainting on her first day or her pride if it happened in front of this particular witch. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to focus on what she knew was reality; she was in the past…no that didn’t help at all. She tried again; her name was Hermione Granger, she was from England, she was at Hogwarts, she was in the potions classroom, she was making a _Shrinking Solution._ With each fact she recalled her heart rate seemed to slow and her breathing calmed somewhat. But she was pulled back to reality rather quickly and with a significant bump when a cool hand was delicately placed across her forehead and another firmly gripped her arm as though to steady her. She snapped her eyes open but, for some reason, she made no move to step away from the other girl. “Wha…what are you doing?” Hermione choked out. Her accusatory words were a stark juxtaposition to her actions as she leant in to the cool, sure and steadying touch; soaking up all of the reassurance that she could.

“You had gone all pale and clammy.” Bellatrix defended quietly, looking slightly awkward as she withdrew her hand from the other girl’s head. “I thought you might be ill.”

“No, I’m fine.” Hermione replied unconvincingly. Bellatrix’s eyes were alight with something that Hermione had not noticed before, a tenderness that seemed to illuminate the brown of her irises and make them appear deeper and richer. She took a step away from the dark haired witch, breaking contact all together, suddenly desperate to be away from the other girl’s aura, her body heat, her scent. The combination of all three seemed to make her head spin almost as much as the near panic attack had. “Thank you.” She finished in a small voice, unable to stop herself from offering her gratitude.

“It’s fine.” Bellatrix tried to shrug off Hermione’s thanks as she forced her walls back in place; she had allowed herself a momentary slip from her usual cold self into something more caring and that just wouldn’t do. “It was simply a reflex, my youngest sister is… delicate. She allows her emotions to get the better of her at times and takes turns similar to yours; she usually just needs a good anchor.”

“Oh.” Hermione replied, unable to force her mind to form any other words passed the shock in her mind. Bellatrix had been… kind and spoken to her like a normal person for the first time since their meeting.

Bellatrix took her own step away from the bushy haired witch as though to physically distance herself from their last interaction. “So am I going to get to see the wonders of a Beauxbatons education today or are we going to waste the entire lesson?”

Hermione glanced at Bellatrix and noticed how the degree of warmth that had been in her eyes moments before seemed to have faded. In its place was a mask of aristocratic indifference that she was sure was well practiced. “Could you slice the caterpillars up please?”

“Slice them?” Bellatrix asked sceptically.

“Yes.” Hermione answered somewhat nervously. “The metamorphic power is much more potent in their blood.”

Bellatrix seemed to accept this with a slight shrug and gentle nod before she set about meticulously cutting the tiny creatures into perfectly even pieces. “All in at once?” she asked as she held up the chopping board and allowed it to hover over the simmering cauldron.

“Um humm” Hermione hummed in confirmation as she began to concentrate on getting the skin off of the Shrivelfig. “Make sure you get as much of the blood… in there as you can.” She allowed the end of her sentence to trail off as the dark haired witch began scraping the board with her knife before she was even asked.

“You peel the Shrivelfig?” Bellatrix asked as she peered over Hermione’s shoulder. “I have always found the skin to be far too tough to be used in potions making myself.”

Hermione turned to look at her potions partner and almost jumped when she realised the girl was so near, a few of Bellatrix’s stray black curls tickling her cheek as she moved. “Erm…will you cut this up?” she stuttered as she passed the peeled fruit over clumsily.

“Living up to the name there ErmRoss.” Bellatrix mocked with a wink as she moved over to her part of the work station and set about chopping the Shrivelfig into precise cubes.

The bushy haired witch simply rolled her eyes at yet again being the butt of Bellatrix’s joke, she moved over to the cauldron to stir the potion and inspect its colour. Her concentration was quickly lost when she looked over to check on her partner’s progress; she became mesmerised by the other girl’s sure, quick and efficient strokes of the knife. It was obvious by the way that she worked that Bellatrix was diligent and committed to the things that she did, her attitude would lead you on instinct to believe that she was blasé or uncaring. But that could not be further from the truth, Hermione watched as she tutted and huffed when the knife slipped slightly and two of the cubes became more like triangles. She watched how Bellatrix carefully and delicately wiped bits of the fruit and juice from the blade of her knife with a sure finger. And how the girl’s tongue seemed determined to slip out of the corner of her mouth when she wasn’t paying attention to it.

“How do you want me to…” Bellatrix began as she looked up at Hermione and noticed how the bushy haired girl had been looking at her and how she shook her head in an attempt to snap herself out of some daze. “Were you staring at me?”

“What?” Hermione squeaked before clearing her throat. “No I was not. I was just making sure that you were dealing with the Shrivelfig correctly.”

Bellatrix laughed dryly, the sound so unlike the pleasant true laugh from earlier. “You don’t have to worry about the quality of my work, believe me.”

“I’m starting to realise that.” Hermione muttered under her breath.

“So you were watching me?” Bellatrix prodded.

“Well I just told you that I was watching you didn’t I?” The bushy haired witch snapped. “And is there anything that you don’t hear?”

“I have two sisters; I learned a long time ago that the things that people don’t want you to hear are the most important parts of a conversation.” Bellatrix replied in a matter of fact manner.

Those words struck Hermione for a second, since Bellatrix’s escape from Azkaban she had thought of her as many things. A Death Eater, a lieutenant, a criminal, a murderer, a pure-blood, a supremacist, a lunatic but she had never thought of her as somebody’s sister or daughter or friend. She had never thought of her as human. But this Bellatrix seemed human, like her very own person; she was mischievous and cocky and yes…annoying but it all seemed to be in the name of fun. There was no malice to the things that the girl did; she was just testing the boundaries around her. Hermione found herself wondering when all of that changed and the evilness set in, when she stopped pushing boundaries and began pushing people to the brink of insanity with her magic. “We’ll need the Shrivelfig juice soon, the potion is pink.” She said softly.

“How do you want me to juice it?” Bellatrix asked, finishing her forgotten question from earlier.

Hermione picked up a sealable plastic bag from their work station and handed it to Bellatrix. “Put the pieces in there and shake them.”

The look of horror on the black haired witch’s face was almost comical. “Shake them….in this?” She asked, gesturing with the plastic bag.

It was Hermione’s turn to chuckle and smirk, it did feel rather muggle to use a plastic bag but it worked. “I can do it if you’re not up to it.”

Bellatrix didn’t even answer her; she simply fixed her with sarcastic look before turning and filling the bag with the pieces of Shrivelfig and aggressively shaking them to prove a point.

“I think that should do it.” Hermione pointed out as she watched the bag quickly fill with the fruits rich juices. She leant over their cauldron to check that the potion was at the correct shade of red before motioning for Bellatrix to join her. “Add some of the juice until it starts to turn orange, I’ll stir.”

“If this insane method of yours poisons us I will hex you.” Bellatrix said with a stern look as she opened the bag she was holding and began pouring measured amounts of the juice into their cauldron.

“If I was going to poison you I would do a proper job and you would be hexing no one.” Hermione countered, not daring to tear her eyes away from the contents of their cauldron for fear that she had pushed their little game too far.

Bellatrix’s gentle chuckle put paid to that worry though. “I think that should be enough of the Shrivelfig juice, a few more stirs and that will be orange. Do we need to add any of the flesh?”

“Yeah” Hermione affirmed simply. This Bellatrix was certainly a conundrum; she knew the degree of anger that the other witch was capable of, she knew the horrors she was capable of inflicting on anyone that crossed her. But this Bellatrix was magnetic, her personality seemed to draw you in and push you away all at once, she was warm and cold all at the same time. She was enigmatic and captivating and absorbing in the way that she seemed to appraise and test the world around her. Hermione somehow found her own fascination with this girl was almost as terrifying as the thought of the Death Eater she would become.

Bellatrix watched as Hermione seemed to shrink into herself, getting lost in her own mind somewhere. The girl reached for a wooden spoon on their work station and passed it over to her without exchanging any words. But she needed no further prompt as she set about carefully extracting the pieces of fruit from the bag and transferring them to the cauldron. “What colour are we looking for?” She asked after three spoons full of Shrivelfig had made it into their brew which had begun to pale to a dull orange.

“Yellow.” Hermione answered, her second one word answer in a row drew a sideways glance from the other girl. But she couldn’t concentrate on that right now; she was too busy trying not to concentrate on the electric chill that ran up her arm every time the other witch’s body inadvertently brushed hers. How could this girl be having such an effect on her? Was it fear that made her skin prickle and all of her senses heighten? Or was it the mere energy of the girl herself?

“Are you ok?” Bellatrix asked cautiously, that hint of caring slipping into her voice again despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. Hermione’s cheeks were taking on a distinctly pink shade and the girl looked flushed and distracted. “Are you getting too warm? Maybe you should take your cardigan off. Or at least roll your sleeves up.”

Just the mention of exposing her arms made her scar tingle, her mind slipped to the derogatory slur scrawled across her skin in childish writing. She could almost see the glint from the dagger that had engraved it flash in the corner of her eye. She could still smell the perfume the Death Eater had been wearing on the night she had pinned her to the drawing room floor; that smell seemed to invade her senses now. “I will not be removing my cardigan and I do not need you to fuss over me.” Hermione snapped as she subconsciously tugged the sleeves of the knit wear down further.

Bellatrix rounded on the other girl with a murderous look in her eyes; she put her hands on her hips and set her jaw. “I do many things ErmRoss.” She began through gritted teeth. “But I can assure you that fuss is _not_ one of them. If you take one of your turns again, rest assured I will not be attempting to catch you this time.”

Hermione met Bellatrix’s dark glare for a second but the look was too intense to hold and she found her eyes frantically searching the rest of the girl’s face. That is when she noticed the slight pink colouring at Bellatrix’s cheeks; it stood out in stark contrast to her otherwise porcelain skin. It didn’t look like a flush of anger, she looked too composed otherwise. Was this the colour of embarrassment? “I’m sorry.” Hermione muttered. “I didn’t mean to… offend you.”

“Offend me.” Bellatrix snorted, fixing her lips into a self-assured smirk. “You will have to try a lot harder than that to offend me.”

“Still I’m sorry.” Hermione said in a small voice as she looked at Bellatrix through the corner of her eye, she watched how the other girl’s stiff posture loosened slightly at her words.

“Forget it now.” Bellatrix replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What do we need to do next with this potion of yours?”

“Ours.” Hermione corrected before she could stop herself. “Erm… the potion needs to simmer until it turns purple. While we’re waiting we can prepare the next ingredients.”

The corner of Bellatrix’s mouth pulled up slightly despite the fact that she was still trying to look put out by the other girl. “There you go again ErmRoss.”

Hermione rolled her eyes before quickly turning away to hide the look, not wanting to disrespect the fact that Bellatrix seemed to be extending the olive branch. “I’m going to get the rest of the ingredients.” She almost whispered before taking a deep breath and heading to the ingredients store and collecting the last three items they needed. Once she was back at their work station and had deposited the items she was carrying she spoke again, this time in a more assured voice. “The rat spleens can go in as they are as soon as the potion is purple.”

“Which one would you rather prepare?” Bellatrix asked as she held up the pinch of daisy roots in one hand and a writhing leech in the other.

Hermione scrunched her face up in disgust at the slimy black creature in front of her. “Since you seem to have such an affinity to those awful little things why don’t you take care of them?”

Bellatrix hummed contemplatively as a smirk broke out on her face. “I’ve never known somebody take such a dislike to daisy root. But if you insist you can get to work on the leeches.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror for a second before she realised that Bellatrix was trying very hard to fight back a laugh. “Oh just give me the daisy root and start juicing the leeches will you.”

At this Bellatrix did actually laugh, the same tuneful sound as earlier emanating from her again. “I will, I will. You don’t need to _fuss_ about it ErmRoss.”

Hermione ran a hand through her quickly frizzing hair, she was feeling equal parts frustrated at Bellatrix’s sporadic moods and relieved that the girl seemed to be more forgiving than her ruthless future self. Again she found herself questioning when the girl in front of her began her transformation into the heartless monster that plagued the wizarding world. As she began mincing the daisy root with the knife Bellatrix had been using earlier she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if there was anything she could do to put a stop to her metamorphosis. She thought about all of the lives that could be saved if Bellatrix remained as the forgiving, almost caring person she seemed to be right now. She thought about how weakened Voldemort’s cause would be without Bellatrix’s extreme fanaticism. And she thought about all of the things that a mind like Bellatrix’s might be able to achieve if it was directed in the right way and not towards death and destruction. It was this thought that stopped her in her tracks, it was not her job to change the future; to take Bellatrix out of the running, and it was certainly not her job to decide what was _right_ for somebody else. As much as it pained her to think about it, Bellatrix had only ever done the things that she did because she believed it was _right._ She truly believed that muggles were inferior to her and that muggle-borns did not deserve to be educated in the ways of magic, she was as disgusted by this as many people were by her actions. And my God, when the hell had she started to become sympathetic to Bellatrix Lestrange and the way that she thought?

Thankfully Hermione didn’t have much chance to dwell on this as she was pulled out of her musings by Bellatrix’s sure voice. “The potion is purple and I’ve added the rat spleens, I put them in whole like you mentioned before.”

“Perfect.” Hermione acknowledged with a small smile. “Now stir is carefully, it can be a little volatile at this stage.”

“I’m good with volatile.” Bellatrix mocked, as she picked up the long spoon used to stir the potion. She carefully slid it into the cauldron, being careful to disturb the surface of the liquid as little as possible and began making graceful figure of eights through the substance.

Hermione approached the cauldron too, taking care to stand a good distance away from the other girl this time; she couldn’t risk getting distracted at this point in the brewing process. “Keep stirring while I add the final ingredients.” She instructed as she sprinkled some of the minced daisy root onto the top of the potion. She watched how the bits of fibrous material were combined into the liquid and it began to turn a sludgy brown. She scattered another pinch of daisy root into the potion, estimating it to be enough to transform it to the desired shade of green before turning away to prepare the leech juice Bellatrix had prepared.

“You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were good at this were you?” The black haired witch uttered quietly, refusing to look away from the potion.

Hermione smiled nervously, not really believing that she had heard what she had actually heard. “Shouldn’t you be sounding upset? At this rate you will be writing your own Transfiguration essay.”

“There’s still time for it to all go wrong.” Bellatrix replied with a wink, finally looked up at the other girl to catch her eye.

“You’re not planning to sabotage the potion are you?” Hermione asked, only half joking.

Bellatrix gave a snort of laughter. “Not a chance, there is still twenty points we can squeeze out of old Slughorn if we play our cards right.”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh this time; she shook her head good naturedly as she began carefully adding drops of leech juice into their potion. “I’m sure you have many methods which allow you to milk our good Professor out of all of the points that you want.”

“ErmRoss what are you insinuating?” Bellatrix gasped, looking at the bushy haired witch with a look of horror.

“N..nothing. Oh my God, nothing.” Hermione stuttered, realising too late the double entendre she had inadvertently made.

Bellatrix abandoned her rhythmic stirring of the potion to stand in front of Hermione. “I’m kidding.” She said gently as she laid her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “Slughorn is a collector of exceptional people. He tries to recruit them into this _club_ that he runs, it’s all very elite. He has been trying to enlist me since I began in my first year. But so far I have eluded his grasp.”

“So he tries to bribe you with house points.” Hermione finished the tale for Bellatrix, remembering all too well the methods Slughorn had employed to drag Harry into his _Slug Club._

“Exactly.” Bellatrix confirmed with a nonchalant shrug. “And until he realises that all of the house points in the world would not get me to put on a fancy dress and play nice with my peers I will continue to take them with a sweet smile.”

As if he had been summoned by the mere mention of his name, Slughorn approached their work station with a benign grin. “Well, Well ladies. I hope you two are getting along.”

“Of course Professor.” Bellatrix replied with a smile. “I was just telling Miss Ross here what a wonderful Potions Master you are.”

Slughorn covered his mouth for a second, portraying a pantomime version of someone looking coy. “Oh I don’t know about all of that Miss Black.”

“Professor, don’t be modest.” Bellatrix continued, sending a surreptitious wink Hermione’s way.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix’s game, but decided to play along all the same. “Yes Professor, you’re reputation really does precede you.”

“Girls, you both really are too kind.” Slughorn grinned again, rubbing his chubby hands together. “Now, my fingers are itching to give away some more house points so let us take a look at your _Shrinking Solution.”_

As the Potions Master turned to peruse their cauldron Bellatrix reached out and grabbed Hermione’s hand briefly squeezing it before letting go. When the bushy haired witch caught her eye, looking at her in confusion she mouthed _I told you._

Slughorn humming pensively drew both of the girl’s attention. “Is there a problem sir?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“No, not a problem per se.” Slughorn said in a distant voice. “The potion is almost there; it’s just that something needs a slight tweak.”

“A tweak?” Hermione asked, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. She could feel Bellatrix’s heavy gaze on her, despite the fact that she refused to turn and meet it.

“Yeeeees” The Professor drew out the word as he wracked his brain. “Of course, of course.” He finally shouted as he produced his wand from within his robes and waved it with a flourish at the cauldron. The flames underneath leapt higher up its side and almost instantly the potion began making an odd groaning noise. Both girls subconsciously moved closer to the cauldron and peered inside, they watched in wonder how the contents seemed to glow as it moved from its emerald hue to an almost fluorescent green. Once it had reached the colour that Slughorn was happy with he waved his wand again and extinguished the flames all together. “I would hasten to guess that this is an almost perfect brew ladies.”

“I can take very little of the credit sir.” Bellatrix said with a slight smile directed at Hermione. “Miss Ross took the reins on this one, I simply followed instructions.”

“Now she is the one being modest Sir.” Hermione interjected.

“Yes, Yes Miss Black.” Slughorn agreed. “Even with the best of instructions a fish can never learn to fly. There has to be some skill there to begin with.”

“Thank you Sir.” Bellatrix replied, sounding almost genuinely grateful.

“Well, shall we see about testing this little concoction of yours?” Slughorn asked rhetorically as he reached into his pocket and withdrew an empty potions vial. Before either girl had replied he had spooned some of the liquid into the delicate glass wear, popped a cork into the top and begun wandering back towards his desk.

Bellatrix frowned at Hermione, before inclining her head in a silent gesture for them both to follow the rotund little man. They walked silently, side by side to join the Professor and watched as he held up their vial to the light before nodding and extracting a frog from a glass tank behind him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Professor Slughorn called out dramatically. “I would like you all to leave your potions where they are and gather around me. We have a potion to test.” A general din erupted as students began muttering and stools were scraped across the stone floor as the class moved. Once the whole group was gathered around his desk Slughorn began speaking again. “Miss Black and Miss Ross appear to have brewed the perfect _Shrinking Solution_. See how it seems to glow as it catches the light and it lets off a delicate mist as it moves. This is what we are looking for in a correctly brewed draught, but there is only one way to be sure of its true triumph and that is to test it.”

Ever the show man, Slughorn uncorked the vial of green liquid with his teeth and poured a generous amount into the now wriggling frog’s mouth. As soon as the substance touched the animal’s tongue it instantly stilled, it made a feeble attempt to croak but only a slight groan escaped its throat. Bellatrix looked over at Hermione with a questioning look, obviously unsure if this was what was supposed to happen. The bushy haired witch inclined her head, drawing the other girl’s attention back to the animal which was now an obvious black colour opposed to its previous green. Before their eyes the little creature’s limbs began retracting into itself, its body elongating and stretching out to create a tail; its form now more obviously that of a tadpole than a frog.

“Excellent, Excellent.” The Potions Master cheered. “We have success! Twenty points to both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Not only are you the only pair to finish your potion but you have also created a practically perfect brew. I see Outstanding N.E.W.Ts in your future ladies.”

“Thank you Professor.” Hermione beamed, feeling slightly giddy at her success. It had been such a long time since she had felt the rush of excelling at anything academic and she had almost forgotten how addictive the sensation was.

“Oh you are quite welcome my wonderful girl.” Slughorn grinned across his desk at the bushy haired witch before turning his attention back to the rest of the class. “Now, next lesson we will be brewing the _Elixir to Induce Euphoria._ Before then I expect you and your potions partner to conduct research on the potion’s history, its uses and the best brewing method. Any pair who reneges on this duty will be woefully unprepared when next lesson comes around. Dismissed.”

With this abrupt ending the class began to move, muttering as they packed their things away but all too happy to bid a hasty retreat from the classroom and have an extra break between potions and their next lesson. Hermione joined the flow of people moving towards the back of the room before diverting off to her own workstation.

“Well done ErmRoss.” Bellatrix’s voice sounded close to Hermione’s ear as she bent down to collect her belongings from under the desk, she almost dropped her notebook in shock. She stood up quickly and turned to see the dark haired witch observing her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“You almost scared me half to death.” Hermione snapped pressing her hand to her racing heart. “Didn’t anyone ever teach that it’s rude to sneak up on people like that?”

Bellatrix didn’t answer, she simply chuckled. “I guess you are stuck with me and my appalling manners for a little while as we now have another potion to brew together. Do you have any tricks up your sleeve for this one?”

“I do actually.” Hermione smirked. “But I don’t intend to always do all of the work.” 

“Of course not.” Bellatrix replied, throwing the other girl a look of mock offence. “I fully intend to be the Robin to your Batman.”

Hermione laughed outright despite herself at the image that analogy brought up. “How do _you_ know about Batman and Robin?”

“I don’t live under a rock.” Bellatrix threw back, shaking her head. “Anyway, we have some research to do before Friday. Should we meet in the Library on Wednesday, around 6.30?”

“That works for me.” Hermione agreed as the two girls headed for the door together.

They stepped outside the classroom and looked in separate directions along the corridor, Bellatrix towards the Slytherin common room and Hermione towards the stairs to the upper floors of the castle. The dark haired witch paused and looked back at the other girl awkwardly for a second; a slight smile broke out on her face as she took in the look of uncertainty on Hermione’s face. Again that word, cute, flittered into her mind and she couldn’t convince her feet to carry her away from the girl, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Well, see you around ErmRoss.” She managed to force out before she spun on her heel and marched away, using all of her will power to stop her from looking back, just once, at the girl still stood in the corridor.


	6. Miscommunication

Hermione found herself in her last lesson of Wednesday afternoon; Transfiguration. She had been looking forward to it all week; it had always been her favourite class and Minerva Mcgonagall was her favourite professor by far. But now the class had the added appeal that a certain black haired witch would more than likely be there too. Most people chose Transfiguration for their NEWTs, didn’t they? Then again, Bellatrix wasn’t like most people was she? She had shown up in Charms yesterday morning but had sat in the back corner, completely ignoring everyone while picking at her nails and looking entirely bored. She hadn’t even raised her wand to practice the charm that Professor Goshawk was lecturing them on. And of course she had been in Defence Against the Dark Arts later that day; in this class she had been like a force of nature, so unlike the passive version of herself from the Charms lesson. They had been revising and perfecting non-verbal defensive spells but it was quite apparent that Bellatrix did not need any practice what so ever. Professor Jigger called her up to help him with his demonstration; she was able to throw off every single one of his attacks without even changing her facial expression never mind opening her mouth to utter a counter-curse. Hermione found herself equal parts amazed at the dark haired witch’s skills and terrified at the true potential that lay within her. Bellatrix had at least spoken to her in this lesson though. It was clear that Jigger treated her as more of an assistant in the class than a student, a few times the dark haired witch had made her way over to correct Hermione’s stance or suggest a more appropriate wand position. But other than that she had acted as though they had never shared a conversation before. All week Hermione had found herself looking for glimpses of untamed dark curls, hoping to see more of how the girl interacted and reacted to the world around her. She was filled with a weird sense of excited apprehension as she sat watching the classroom fill up and realised the only seat left was the one next to her. If Bellatrix came in now they would have to sit together… for a whole hour.

“Good afternoon seventh years. Stop your conversations now thank you, I am ready to begin.” Mcgonagall’s voice cut through her thoughts and doused her tenuous hope in ice cold water. “Make sure all of your equipment is out on the desk by the time I have finished taking the register.”

Hermione glanced once more towards the open classroom door hoping to find a certain silhouette filling the empty space but she was met with a totally unobscured view of the corridor beyond. With a sigh she turned back around and began rifling through her bag to retrieve her wand, parchment, quill and ink.

“Bagman, Ludovic.” Professor Mcgonagall called.

A handsome sandy haired Slytherin answered her with a grumbled “Here Professor.” He was much more interested in trying the flirt with the Hufflepuff girl sat next to him who, unfortunately for him, didn’t look at all interested.

“Black, Bellatrix.” Mcgonagall moved on with only a raise of her eyebrow in Ludo Bagman’s direction that effectively silenced the boy. Hermione felt her heart start beating a little faster as her eyes scanned around the room again looking for any sign of the girl. “Ah, no of course.” The professor spoke up as if she had just remembered something. “Cattermole, Reginald.”

Hermione couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that spread through her as she heard Professor Mcgonagall just move on past Bellatrix’s name. Any hope she had that the girl might turn up were now well and truly dashed. Hermione knew that she shouldn’t be associating any positive emotions to Bellatrix; she was the woman who had hunted her friends as if they were animals, who had tortured Neville’s parents into insanity, who had killed countless innocent people including her own niece and had vandalised Hermione’s body… or at least she would become that woman. Hermione knew that the best and most sensible thing to do would be to keep as far away from the other girl as humanly possible. But she just could not seem to stay away from her. If they were in classes together Hermione found her eyes drawn to the dark haired girl, watching the delicacy she seemed to possess when writing with her quill or using her wand. When Bellatrix wasn’t around was when it was worse because Hermione found herself wondering where the girl might be and what she could be doing and who she might be doing it with. Oh Merlin, why… why did it matter? Why did it matter how Bellatrix held her wand when she knew the catastrophes she could create with it? Why did it matter what that deranged individual decided to do with her spare time? _She wasn’t deranged yet though was she?_ She was a school girl and quite the brilliant one at that. She was someone that Hermione could easily be friends with if she didn’t know about the monster she would become. But she did know what she would become and for some reason, that it thoroughly scared her to dwell on, she just could not make that matter in her mind. After waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares, that always involved Bellatrix, Malfoy manor and Dobby’s lifeless body, was when she would find herself lost in her darkest thoughts. She often wondered if she had developed some kind of bastardised form of Stockholm syndrome where she had become obsessed with the woman who held her captive, even if only in her own mind, night after night. And now day in and day out too.

“Ross, Hermione” Professor Mcgonagall’s crisp voice made its way into the edges of her subconscious and called an abrupt halt to her inner monologue. She shook her head to clear it and looked at the older witch in confusion for a second, hoping she would give her some instruction on what she was supposed to do next. “Miss Ross, are you with us?”

“Oh sorry.” Hermione flushed as a few of the other students stifled giggles and Ludo Bagman threw a flirty smirk over his shoulder that caused no reaction within her… unlike Bellatrix’s that cause a distinct fluttering in the pit of her stomach. _Why was her mind making that association?_ “He…here Professor.”

Thankfully the rest of the lesson seemed to go without a hitch. Hermione managed to keep her mind off of Bellatrix long enough to not make a fool out of herself again and actually make some half decent notes on _Understanding the key concepts of_ _Un-transfiguration._ She even succeeded in pinching five points for Ravenclaw for being the only member of the class to be able to identify _‘Vipera Evanesca’_ as the spell to vanish a conjured serpent. She could distinctly remember having heard Professor Snape use it to get rid of the snake that Draco had created during Duelling Club in their second year.

After class she took a rather circuitous route to Ravenclaw tower, having made it halfway to the portrait of the Fat Lady before realising her mistake and turning towards the teacher’s quarters only to remember she had been moved in with the fellow members of her house the previous Monday. Once she finally made it to her room she quickly shed her school robes only to spend entirely too long deciding on an outfit to wear to her library session with Bellatrix. She didn’t really have that many clothes to choose from though. Professor Mcgonagall had taken her on a quick shopping trip to London the week previously but she had really only picked up the essentials, she didn’t have anything nice. She couldn’t fathom why she felt so much pressure to look good anyway, she was only going to the library to do homework. She had spent months in a forest covered in dirt and wearing the same outfits over and over again and somehow Ronald had managed to still find her attractive. Although she assumed that Bellatrix held distinctly higher standards than Ron Weasley. They were going to do homework. They were going to look up potions ingredients in the library. She did not need to look attractive. _No,_ she didn’t need to look attractive, but she wanted to. She wanted to look good for Bellatrix. _Stop_ , she screamed at her racing mind, she had literally had one extended conversation with the girl during a potions lesson where Bellatrix had been pretty much forced to spend time with her. Why was she acting like some love sick puppy? This was the woman who had used the Cruciatus curse on her until she couldn’t even stand on her own. It made no sense at all. She sighed as she settled on a pair of slim cut jeans and a grey, long sleeved, button neck t-shirt. It showed some skin but it didn’t look like she was trying too hard, plus it had long sleeves that she could tug at nervously as was her habit. Hermione gave herself a final once over in the mirror, fixing an errant curl and grabbing her bag, before setting out for the library.

While the idea of being trapped in 1969 was overwhelming and, in truth, out right terrifying; Hermione couldn’t help but find a slight silver lining in it all. She had made it all the way to the library, through the corridors littered with people and not a one of them had even looked her way. No one had tried to stop her and start some ridiculous conversation that she had no interest in. No one had followed her, hiding behind pillars whenever she looked over her shoulder. No one had asked her to sign anything like she was some celebrity. Here in 1969 she was not Hermione Granger, destroyer of the Dark Lord, she was simply Hermione Ross of Ravenclaw and that gave her a strange sort of comfort. As she entered the library her eyes scanned the tables and rows of books, there were not many people in here and, as far as she could see, no Bellatrix. She was early though, as she always was, she looked around at the empty tables that she could claim as their work station and tried to think where would be best. Would Bellatrix want to be in an open area where she could watch people? Hermione had noticed how she liked to observe the others in the class and sneer subtly as they made mistakes. Or would she like to be in a dark corner? That seemed more her style really, more cloak and dagger, more clandestine. She spotted an empty desk that was just out of the way but was lit well enough to allow them to read and work efficiently. She dumped her things on it so people would know it was occupied and set out into the dimly lit shelves of books to find some starter material for when Bellatrix arrived.

She quickly located _‘Potions, Herbs, Oils and Brews’_ , ' _The Herbal Alchemist's Handbook: A Grimoire of Philtres’_ , ‘ _Potion Opuscule’_ and _‘Advanced Potion-making’_ before hurrying back to the desk she had chosen. She couldn’t stop her eyes from doing a sweep of the area with the hope that Bellatrix might have arrived while she was rifling through the dusty tomes but still the girl was painfully absent. Sitting down she opened _‘Potions, Herbs, Oils and Brews’_ to begin researching the uses and benefits of Peppermint, Professor Snape’s notes in his copy of _‘Advanced Potion-making’_ suggested adding it to the brew. She knew that it counteracted the more annoying side effects of the _Elixir to Induce Euphoria_ but she didn’t know why it did what it did, so that was what she had tasked herself with figuring out. She flicked through the pages until she found the information she was looking for and set about reading; without much conscious thought her right hand made notes on the properties of Peppermint and before she knew it she had a full side of parchment. Hermione checked her watch and was shocked to discover it was 6.45, Bellatrix was fifteen minutes late. She checked around her again to see if the dark haired witch was anywhere to be seen but still there was no sign of her, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Trying to distract herself she switched books and began skimming through the pages of ‘ _The Herbal Alchemist’s Handbook’_ to see if she could identify a way to prolong the effects of the euphoria created by the potion. That would be sure to win her a few house points from old Slughorn if she could.

“Ahem” a quiet feminine voice interrupted her reading. She looked up sharply with a smile that quickly faded when she realised it was not Bellatrix as she had been hoping but a blondish Gryffindor stood in front of her. “Sorry to bother you when you’re in the middle of something but are you finished with _‘Advanced Potion-making’_? It’s the last one in the library and I need to check something for an essay. I left mine in my dorm.”

Hermione sighed and fought to not roll her eyes, she wasn’t exasperated with the girl so she quickly threw on a smile that she hoped didn’t look too forced. She was just so annoyed that she had built this evening up all day just for it to be a massive let down. “Yeah, I’m done with it.” Hermione said as she quickly glanced down at her watch, noting that it was now 7.15; if Bellatrix wasn’t here yet she wasn’t coming at all. “In fact I was just about to leave. And I always find _‘Potions, Herbs, Oils and Brews’_ to be really useful for Slughorn’s essays. You can take that too if you want?”

“I will take it actually, thanks.” The girl said smiling warmly at Hermione before the look faltered slightly. “Wait, aren’t you new? How many essays have you written for Slughorn?”

“Oh” Was all Hermione managed to utter as she felt her cheeks flush in slight panic. “Well, I’m an over achiever you see. I write essays for fun.” Even she cringed at the lie.

The girl raised her eyebrows and appraised Hermione as though looking for some clarification that the brunette was indeed mad. “It takes all kinds I guess.” She said with a shrug. “I’m Mafalda by the way, Mafalda Hopkirk. I’m in sixth year.”

Hermione almost chocked on thin air at the revelation of the girl’s name, it was only a matter of months ago that she had impersonated an older Mafalda in order to gain entrance into the Ministry of Magic. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Hermione Gr…Ross. Seventh year.”

“Hermione…nice name.” Mafalda said awkwardly as she tapped absent mindedly on the edge of the mahogany desk. “I better…you know…get back” she gestured over her shoulder to the table that her friends were still sat at.

“Of course.” Hermione said, equally as awkwardly. “It was nice speaking to you Mafalda.”

The Gryffindor smiled again and picked up all of the books that Hermione had been working from. “Nice speaking to you too.”

* * *

The next morning Hermione woke up in a particularly terrible mood. Not only was she annoyed about being ditched at the library but she had barely slept all night after having a series of feverish dreams that an older Bellatrix had featured in heavily. She heaved herself reluctantly out of bed and dressed in her school robes hastily before making her way down to the Great Hall. Her funk seemed to dissipate slightly after a few slices of toast and a goblet of orange juice but she was still absolutely seething. She allowed her eyes to flitter around the room when something caught her attention like a giant flashing beacon. A head of unruly black curls. After days of being reclusive and showing up to lessons as and when she felt like it, now here Bellatrix was sat, as bold as brass as if nothing had happened at all. The Slytherin was sat at her house table, on her own of course, reading a book with one elbow on its surface and her head propped up nonchalantly on her hand. Hermione didn’t remember giving herself permission to get up or cross the room but before she knew it she was stood next to the other girl. Her face was obscured by her mass of dark hair and she hadn’t even had the courtesy to look up at her as she approached.

“I hope you have a good excuse for leaving me hanging around in the library last night.” Hermione demanded, her voice sounding much shriller than she would have wanted. The Slytherin didn’t look away from her book. “Hey, I’m talking to you, you could at least look at me.” Still the girl did not move and Hermione found herself filled with an unfettered rage that she couldn’t control. She lashed out and slapped the book the girl was holding out of her hand, it hit her half-finished bowl of cereal with a resounding thud and upended the contents into her lap.

“What the fuck?” The girl screeched as she stood up from the bench and attempted to wipe as much of the milk off her skirt as she could before she turned a murderous gaze on her attacker. Hermione’s face paled as she took in the large, chocolate brown eyes and noticed the rounder form to the features of this girl’s face.

A gasp from the other side of the bench drew her attention to a platinum blonde girl, probably only in her second or third year. “Andromeda, you mustn’t swear. It’s unladylike.”

“Really Narcissa?” Andromeda almost shouted back. “Some lunatic has just thrown my breakfast all over me but me using the word fuck is what has offended your sensibilities?”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Hermione almost sobbed as she hastily pulled out her wand and cast _Scourgify_ on Andromeda’s skirt and the floor around her feet. “I don’t know what came over me. I thought you were…”

“You thought I was Bellatrix. Yeah, that happens a lot.” Andromeda snapped as she picked up her now empty cereal bowl and put it back on the table with some force. “Not the getting covered in my breakfast thing… the getting confused with Bellatrix part.”

“I really am terribly sorry.” Hermione babbled, she could feel her cheeks blazing as eyes up and down the Slytherin table turned in their direction. “I was just…I was so angry. And I haven’t slept well. And I’m….an idiot and so bloody stressed out….I…oh God. I’m so so sorry.”

Andromeda placed a calming hand on Hermione’s arm in order to stop her rambling and obvious impending panic attach. “Look, it’s ok and it’s really not that big of a deal. My skirt is clean now…no blood, no foul.”

Hermione glanced at the girl with a look of shame set into her features. “No it’s not ok, it’s not. I should have kept my temper. I should have…”

“Nobody knows better than me how annoying Bella can be.” Andromeda interrupted the bushy haired girl again as she sat back down gracefully and gestured for Hermione to join her. The older witch plopped down onto the bench next to the Slytherin looking like a crumpled mess, her face was flushed and she looked like she was about to cry. “Try not to let her get under your skin like this. She’ll only see it as a conquest.”

“Don’t speak about Bella like that Andie.” Narcissa spoke up again to reprimand her sister. “It isn’t kind.”

Andromeda chuckled; emitting a warm, comforting sound that seemed to light up her entire face. “Disagree with me then Cissy… you know as well as I do that Bella has a particular skill for pushing people’s buttons. Was it not only yesterday that you were complaining to me about how much you hated her because of her constant teasing of your _beloved_ _Lucius_ ” The dark haired witch said the boy’s name with as much scorn as she could muster. Narcissa didn’t seem to be able to contradict her older sister though so she simply made a sound of indignation and went back to her breakfast; Andromeda shook her head and smiled knowingly before continuing her conversation with Hermione. “So what has she done this time?”

“It’s going to sound stupid when I say it now.” The bushy haired witch said meekly as she picked nervously at her finger nails.

“It is never just one thing with Bellatrix, she picks and picks until one small action makes you snap. After a week of particularly heavy teasing from my sister I once hexed her hair pink because she drank the last mouthful of my coffee one morning.” Andromeda raised a mischievous eyebrow and smiled warmly at Hermione. “That was pretty stupid, but Merlin did it feel good.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her stunned laugh. “What did Bellatrix do?”

“Oh, nothing much. Called me a few colourful names but that was about it.” Andromeda replied, waving off Hermione’s concern. “It got her out of going to one of our family’s dull balls so she was pretty happy about it really. I, of course, still had to go so she saw that as my punishment.”

“Bellatrix was supposed to meet me in the library last night to do a homework project we had been assigned by Slughorn. She didn’t turn up and I had to do all of the work myself.” Hermione finally enlightened the younger witch.

“Hmmm… that’s odd.” Andromeda said pensively. “Bellatrix can be insufferable at times with her attitude towards things but one thing she does take seriously is her studies. Narcissa, have you seen Bella this morning?”

“No.” Narcissa said in a small voice laced with worry. “I went in to her room this morning to see if she was coming down for breakfast but she wasn’t there and her bed was already made.”

Andromeda groaned and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, as Hermione looked at her more closely she realised that the girl’s hair was much lighter than Bellatrix’s. It was more of a deep, chestnut brown rather than the raven black of her older sister’s tresses and looked much neater and more cared for. “This happens a lot.” The Slytherin informed the bushy haired girl. “Bellatrix has a tendency to get caught up in things and lose all track of time. She can be missing for days at a time.”

“What do you mean by ‘get caught up in things’”? Hermione asked sceptically, wondering if the things that Bellatrix was caught up with might be of the dark and dangerous nature, maybe even Death Eater related. Had she been embroiled in that depravity from this early on in her life?

“How many classes do you share with my sister?” Andromeda countered, seeming to totally ignore Hermione’s question.

Hermione frowned but answered the younger girl none the less. “Well we have Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions together. She should be in Transfiguration too but she didn’t turn up yesterday.”

“That is to be expected.” Andromeda replied with a resigned nod. “Do you have History of Magic together at all?”

“No.” Hermione said while shaking her head. “That isn’t a subject that I continued on to N.E.W.T level.”

“If you were in History of Magic you would find that she rarely attends that class either.” Andromeda revealed as she began reaching for her school bag from under the table.

“But how does she get away with that?” Hermione probed, now even more intrigued by the black haired witch.

Narcissa piped up again from across the table when she felt that her oldest sister needed defending. “She doesn’t _get away_ with it. The Professors are well aware of where she is.”

At Hermione’s questioning look Andromeda decided she needed to elaborate on Narcissa’s comment. “As infuriating as Bellatrix can be, she is equally as exceptional. So exceptional in fact that she has surpassed many of her peers, meaning that she gets bored in her classes. And a bored Bellatrix is very, very hard work. Many of the Professors have agreed to let her do extra research on her own. They say it is for her benefit but really I believe it is to get her out of their hair. I can’t really blame them.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile gently at this new piece of information. “So, Bellatrix isn’t just skipping lessons then?”

“Most definitely not.” Andromeda confirmed lightly. “She prizes her education more than anything else. She believes education will be her route out of the ridiculous life our parents have planned for her.”

“Andie.” Narcissa spoke with a warning tone. “Is it wise to spread too much of Bellatrix’s business? We don’t even know this girl.”

“Oh don’t be so naïve Cissy.” Andromeda chastised her younger sister. “We’re purebloods; it is hardly a secret that all women like us are committed into marriages we have very little choice in. It has been this way for centuries.”

“Yes, I’m already well aware of the old pureblood custom of arranged marriages.” Hermione agreed with Andromeda, finding it very hard to keep the tone of disapproval out of her voice.

“But you are right Cissy. I’m not about to divulge any of Bella’s secrets.” The darker haired witch said as she looked at Hermione warily now. “My sister will have a good reason for missing your… _study_ _date_ yesterday evening. And I’m sure she will enlighten you with that reason once I chase her out of whatever hole she is currently hiding in.” With that Andromeda stood up and threw her bag on to her shoulder, she carefully stepped over the bench she had been sitting on and turned to look at the other girl. “It was lovely to meet you…”

“Hermione.” Hermione supplied. “And it wasn’t a _date…_ with Bella last night. We were really only doing homework.”

“Yes, people do tend to get as worked up as you did over _only doing homework._ But either way, hopefully next time we meet you can refrain from throwing my breakfast in my lap.” Andromeda said with a mischievous smile that was not a million miles away from one that Hermione had seen gracing her older sister’s face.

“I will try to control myself in future.” Hermione replied, returning the smile as she watched Andromeda stroll away gracefully.

* * *

Hermione had been rather subdued for the rest of the day, despite Andromeda’s assurances that she held no grudge the bushy haired witch couldn’t help but feel awful for her actions during breakfast. What made her feel worse was the parallel it drew to the very incident that had brought her here, to the past, in the first place. Hadn’t that been due to her inability to control her temper too? And despite the great personal risk Mcgonagall had taken to help show her the error of her ways, evidently she had learned nothing at all from it. Currently she was sulking on her bed in her, thankfully empty, dorm room. She knew that allowing her mind time to roam was not such a good idea these days; it often took her to dark places but she was nothing if not a glutton for punishment. Immediately after the war she and the boys had been encouraged to attend sessions with a psychiatrist of sorts, or the wizard equivalent anyway, at St Mungo’s. Healer Macmillan had been kind and gentle, she had not put any pressure on Hermione to talk about things she didn’t feel comfortable with; at times she just allowed her to sit there and not talk at all. But Hermione had quickly decided that whatever help the woman could offer her she was not quite ready to receive, she needed more time to mull it over and try to rationalise it for herself before she would be able to view anything through somebody else’s perspective. She had every intention of going back to speak to Healer Macmillan at some point but, well, now she was here and that chance was gone. One thing that the woman said had stuck in the bushy haired witch’s head though; she had told Hermione that no matter how normal she felt right now it was almost impossible to be touched by so much loss and destruction and hope to come out unscathed. She had expected that the effects of her traumatic year would manifest themselves as stress or anxiety; she thought that maybe she had got away with just the nightmares. Sometimes she wondered whether at any point she may just begin to uncontrollably cry at ridiculous things with no explanation like you see people do in movies when they are dealing with problems. But never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that her post traumatic stress would lead to her becoming an overly aggressive lunatic that attacked innocent people. Her fight or flight switch was firmly positioned at fight and it was certainly on a hair trigger. Hermione wondered if she should speak to Mcgonagall about what she was experiencing, maybe she could suggest some way to help her.

Hermione’s attention was caught when the door to her dorm room began to swing open slowly with a creek. She only shared her dorm with two other girls, but being studious Ravenclaws they spent most of their time reading or doing homework in the common room. This meant that, much to the bushy haired witch’s preference, she found she was able to gain plenty of peace and quiet in there. She craned her head around to look at the door to see which of the other girls it was returning, but the doorway was strangely empty. Instantly Hermione was on high alert and her eyes began scanning the room, she caught sight of a tell-tale ripple in the air. Quicker than she had time to catch up with her own actions she had leapt off the bed with her wand in her hand and she had cast a wordless _finite incantatem._ Her mind had not had chance to gather its equilibrium when she found herself almost nose to nose with a now fully visible Bellatrix Black.

“Fuck.” Bellatrix breathed, breaking the stalemate. “Well that was impressive ErmRoss.”

“Don’t you dare!” Hermione roared as she took a step away from the other girl and sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping her head into her hands. “You don’t get to forget about me and be a complete arse and then make fun of me too.”

“Make fun of you?” Bellatrix asked as she narrowed her eyes and appraised the bushy haired witch.

Still with her head in her hands Hermione replied. “Yes calling me ErmRoss all of the time. I want it to stop!”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Bellatrix said patronisingly, which was completely the wrong move.

Hermione’s head snapped back up, her eyes alight with something undecipherable. “I know the opinions that you _true_ purebloods hold. Just because you view yourself as superior does not mean that you get to bastardise my name and mock my heritage.”

“Hold on there, Ross.” The darker haired witch snapped defensively, her hands flying to her hips. “What exactly is it that you think you know about me as a _true pureblood.”_

“Oh I know plenty.” Hermione replied furiously as she stood up to face Bellatrix full on. “I know that you think you are better than everybody else just because you were born with the silver spoon. I know that you do not see any value in those that you deem lesser and you would trample all over any of them to get where you want. I know that you would even go as far as to stab your own family in the back if they were to go against you.”

“Stop right now.” Bellatrix thundered as she took a small step closer to Hermione until their chests were almost touching. Her eyes were filled with rage and she looked more like a Death Eater than the fairer girl had seen her look since she arrived here. It was terrifying to behold the way her delicate, beautiful features could morph so easily into something so hard. “Some things you may be right about and I won’t deny it. I think I am better than everybody else because I try twice as hard as anybody in this school. Nothing, when it comes to my education, has been handed to me because of the family I was born in to and I will not apologise for having ambition and drive and being prepared to leave those behind who cannot keep up. But you go too far when you talk about my family.”

Hermione burst out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. “What a double standard. I’m not allowed to pass comment on your family but it is fine for you to belittle mine.”

“What have I done to belittle your family, Ross?” Bellatrix asked incredulously, her anger seeming to have morphed into frustration as she spoke. “I called you ErmRoss to try and break the ice with you. I saw you outside of the potions classroom earlier this week and you looked terrified and tense. I wanted to make you feel more comfortable. I was mocking _you_ not your family.”

“Am I seriously supposed to believe that _you_ were putting yourself out to make _me_ feel more comfortable?” Hermione shook her head and stepped away from the other girl, putting some distance between them so that she didn’t hit her.

“When I spoke to you in that potions lesson I was sure that you were different from everybody else in this school. Or at least I hoped you were.” Bellatrix said in a small voice as her eyes wandered to the small window on the other side of the room. “From the first day I walked through the front doors of Hogwarts I have been judged because of my last name. I finally thought that I had found someone who wouldn’t do that. How wrong I was when here you stand telling me that I couldn’t possibly have thought about anyone else, I couldn’t possible have the ability to put someone before myself because I am a Black.”

“Tha…that’s not what I meant.” Hermione stuttered tripping over herself as she tried to think of what to say next. That had been exactly what she meant hadn’t it? She couldn’t believe that Bellatrix could have actually done something nice because she was well….Bellatrix. But she didn’t even know this Bellatrix, she knew Bellatrix LeStrange. “You don’t even know me, why would you do something for me?”

“Because I wanted to know you.” The black haired witch replied in a voice flushed with emotion. “I saw something in you. You cared about what Slughorn was saying, you knew about the history of the potion, you challenged me. Nobody here does that, everybody just ambles through their days not thinking about life outside of these damned castle walls.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to challenge you. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I just want to have an easy life.” Hermione felt awful as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The things that Bellatrix had just said slowly began to sink in. She wanted a friend and she had seen someone who might actually be on par with her and had reached out for it. Hermione knew how rare it must be for the girl to do that and in return she had lashed out at her. Maybe the girl didn’t really know the perfect way to go about endearing herself to people but at least she was trying, surely that should be respected. If more people had tried to give Bellatrix a chance and tried to be a friend and a support for her perhaps life would have turned out differently for her. One residing memory from her awful night at Malfoy Manner was Bellatrix’s anger at everything; she had filled Hermione’s body with that anger. This was the first time that she had even begun to try to understand that emotion, how could the black haired witch not be angry when she spent her entire life being ostracised. She wasn’t like their peers and, from what she had seen in classes, most of them avoided her like the plague. Andromeda had suggested that the teachers couldn’t even seem to take to Bellatrix and her family refused to recognise her drive and intelligence because she was a woman. It didn’t seem fair.

“I spoke to Andromeda. She told me that she had met you this morning while you were looking for me; she said you were angry about last night. She likes you by the way, she said you seemed sweet.” Bellatrix said carefully as she looked back at Hermione. “I came to apologise about not meeting you in the library, I was working on something for History of Magic and I got engrossed in the research. I do that sometimes. I lost all track of time, in fact I only realised what had happened when Andie came to find me this morning. I had worked all through the night without even realising it. But I did find time to put this together.” She reached into a pocket in her robes and pulled out a scroll of parchment, she unrolled it before handing it to the other girl. “Hopefully you find it useful.”

Hermione scanned the neat handwriting and read the title at the top of the page; _How to prolong the effects of the ‘Elixir to Induce Euphoria’._ This was the very thing that Hermione had wanted to research last night, before she got too pissed off the carry on working that is. She knew it would be possible somehow to make the feeling of euphoria created by the potion to last longer and the other girl seemed to have cracked it. “Bellatrix…” she breathed softly as she looked up from the parchment but the girl had already disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I love to hear what you think and any suggestions are always well received.


	7. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken a little while to get up, here's hoping it's worth the wait.

“Where are you going?” Narcissa asked frantically as she scurried along behind her eldest sister.

“Nowhere Cissy.” Bellatrix replied as she carried on marching down the corridor and tried desperately to stop herself from sighing exasperatedly. Narcissa could be incredibly irritating at times, but her heart was always in the right place. So Bellatrix tried her very best not to snap whenever she started to get infuriated with her little sister.

Narcissa darted forward a few paces until she was finally next to the black haired girl; she reached out and slipped her hand into her sister’s in order to slow her progression somewhat. “You can’t be going _nowhere_ Bella, you have to going somewhere. And I want to come with you.”

Bellatrix stopped steaming ahead and turned to look at the blonde girl’s eager expression and her mood softened slightly. “Well of course I’m going somewhere, but I was trying to politely say that I wanted to be alone.”

“But you have wanted to be on your own all week.” Narcissa replied petulantly. A few months ago she might have paired her tone with a stamped foot but she stopped herself because she was trying her best to be a lady and ladies did not stamp their foot. “You haven’t been yourself since your argument with that new girl.”

“My mood has nothing to do with Ross.” Bellatrix said with a slight frown, as she began studying her finger nails intensely, looking anywhere but at her youngest sister. “Believe me she is not that important.”

“Oh, of course Bellatrix.” A third voice spoke up, its tone filled with mirth. “I’m sure it would be much easier for us to believe that if you could look our little sister in the eye.”

“And what does where I am looking have to do with anything Andromeda?” Bellatrix snapped, her slight frown from earlier becoming more of an outright scowl now.

“I was simply suggesting that should dear Cissy catch a glimpse into your mind she might just see how _unimportant_ Hermione really is to you.” Andromeda smirked as she saw how her sister’s cheeks coloured at her comment.

“Narcissa wouldn’t use her ability to betray my privacy.” Bellatrix said with more confidence than she actually felt, Narcissa did always have a way of figuring out what was going on in her head.

“Bella, you know I can’t always help what I see of others minds.” Narcissa said in a small voice laced with guilt. “Especially when someone’s feelings are particularly strong, as hard as I try I can’t block some thoughts out.”

“Your suggestion that there is some privacy to betray confirms all of my thoughts quite nicely.” Andromeda prodded as she slung an arm around her blonde sister’s shoulders and winked at her older sister in a way that she knew would drive her to distraction. “Come on Cissy, let’s leave Bellatrix to sulk over her crush. I’ll take you for a walk to the Black Lake, we’ll see if we can entice the giant squid close to the shore again.”

“I am not sulking.” Bellatrix called down the corridor after her sisters’ retreating forms, she knew she sounded pathetic but she had to get the last word in.

Andromeda looked over her shoulder with a beaming grin, looking like the cat that got the cream. “It’s funny how you rush to deny the sulking and yet say nothing at all about my suggestion that you have a crush.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and fought with the urge to draw her wand and curse the nearest suit of armour. This whole situation was frustrating her to no end. She was frustrated that she fixated on things so much; whether it was people, studying or perfecting spells she just couldn’t stop herself from pursuing them with absolute intensity. She was frustrated that her fixation on her work had led to her forgetting about her commitment to meet Hermione. She was frustrated that she cared so much that she had upset the girl. She was frustrated that Hermione wouldn’t accept her apology. And she was frustrated that Andromeda had somehow now got involved and would inevitably start meddling. A frustrated Bellatrix was not a good thing; she needed to find a way to blow off some steam.

As if the Gods had heard her plea who should wander around the corner but a young, scrawny sullen looking Slytherin boy with shoulder length blond hair: Lucius Malfoy. His face paled when he laid eyes on Bellatrix and he seemed to have a moment of internal debate where he thought about turning back the way he had come but instead puffed his chest out a little and carried on along his initial route. “I’m looking for your sister.” Lucius stated somewhat nervously as he stopped, what he hoped was, a safe distance from Bellatrix. “Have you seen her?”

Bellatrix smirked in a satisfied sort of way. “I haven’t seen Andromeda in a while actually. Sorry.”

Lucius sighed, catching onto Bellatrix’s intentional obstinance pretty quickly. “I was talking about Narcissa.”

“Of course.” Bellatrix said in a voice filled with mock innocence. “How silly of me.”

Lucius stood for a few minutes staring at the black haired witch with an expectant look before rolling his eyes and sighing. “Well, have you seen her or not?”

“Now, now Lucy. No need to be rude.” Bellatrix retorted, her smirk growing as she saw how her comment made the boy begin to squirm.

“I think I’ll just find her by myself.” Lucius said in a voice that he had obviously tried very hard to make sound confident but his eyes dropped to the floor. “It was a pleasure as always Bellatrix.”

“What do you want with my baby sister anyway?” Bellatrix asked as she stepped in front of Lucius, blocking his path as he attempted to scurry past her.

“What do you mean, what do I want with her?” Lucius threw back, his eyes went wide at the girl’s sudden proximity and he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I…I wish to speak to her, that’s all.”

“Really, is that all?” Bellatrix derided. “It just seems odd to me, that a fifth year like you would be seeking out the company of a third year like my sister.”

“Am I not allowed to speak to Narcissa just because she is a few years younger than me?” The blond boy asked as he raised his chin defiantly.

“I would have no problem with you _speaking_ to my sister.” Bellatrix replied as she narrowed her eyes and took a step towards Lucius. As he tried to shrink away from her he effectively pinned himself between the stone wall and her imposing figure. “I have a problem with you leering at her. I have a problem with you creeping around after her. I have a problem with the way that you look at her. She is a child.”

“I..I don’t leer at her.” Lucius stuttered, he looked as if he wished the wall behind him would just go ahead and swallow him whole. “She is to be my wife someday. Our fathers have decided it.”

“Oooooo, your _father.”_ Bellatrix’s mocked, her eyes flared with anger at his comment and the boy seemed to physically shrink. She shook her head at how pathetic he looked right now. “She may become your wife someday, but for right now she is _MY_ sister and what _I_ say goes.”

“And what exactly are you saying Bellatrix?” Lucius pushed, but as soon as the words left his lips he looked like he regretted it.

Bellatrix took another step forward, her body almost touching his but not quite. Still she loomed over him; she was so close now that she could see beads of sweat beginning to erupt at his hairline. “Stay away from my little sister because if I ever have to get rid of another love bite from her neck courtesy of your raging hormones I will not be held accountable for my actions.” With the threat ringing through the air she walked away, leaving a slightly shaking Lucius still stood against the wall looking entirely too terrified to move. She loved messing with Lucius; it always made her feel better.

* * *

Bellatrix was lay on her bed with her arm thrown haphazardly across her eyes, her dorm mates had been in here earlier but she had effectively scared them off with her sour attitude. As much as she didn’t want to be thinking about Hermione she couldn’t seem to keep her mind off of her for long. The bushy haired girl had tried to make conversation with her while they were working together in Potions, but she had ignored her. The other girl had tried to complement her on her research for the _Elixir to Induce Euphoria_ but she had just waved her off without acknowledging her comments. Hermione had tried to come and speak to her during breakfast one morning but she only responded in grunts until Andromeda had taken pity on the girl and engaged her with actual speech. Bellatrix wanted to say it was because she was angry with the girl but she wasn’t; she was embarrassed. She was embarrassed that she had revealed too much to a person that she didn’t even really know. She spent so much time building up her defences in order to keep the entire world out; she had spent so much time building up a reputation as an intimidating bitch so that everyone would keep their distance. It had worked perfectly until Hermione had come along; the girl had got under her skin with her curious mind and her outright intelligence and her kind eyes. She did not try with people; a lot of things in the world intrigued her but never people, not until Hermione. And now she was fixated on the girl and she was torn between cutting the girl some slack, because she was obviously trying to fix things, and continuing to keep her at arms-length so that she couldn’t get hurt. It scared her that it even crossed her mind that Hermione might have the power to hurt her because she knew that the girl could only have that power if she had given it to her in the first place. She loved her sisters dearly, she loved them more than anything, she would die for them, but even they were kept at a distance. She protected them, she took care of them, she gave them advice, she supported them but she never let them do any of that for her in return. She couldn’t let them see her being that weak.

The door to her dorm room was flung open violently, the wood banging against the wall with a resounding boom as a result of the force. It was like déjà vu from when she snuck into Hermione’s room last week, only much more aggressive and in reverse as she was now the one being barged in on. A small part of her hoped it was Hermione bursting in to demand she stop being so hard faced and start talking to her again, and she would agree to that obviously. She had made the girl suffer enough; as much as she wanted to make her grovel she would draw the line at that. Her tenuous hope was crushed pretty quickly as she peeled her arm away from her face and her eyes fell on her sister’s form in the doorway.

“Narcissa is exceedingly mad with you.” Andromeda said as she stepped into the room and kicked the door closed unceremoniously behind her. “Something about you _emasculating_ Lucius earlier today?”

“Hello Andie, won’t you come in.” Bellatrix replied flatly, when her comment was met with only a raised eyebrow from her sister she sighed and continued. “Narcissa will get over it; I didn’t touch Lucius this time. I just threatened him a little.”

Andromeda snorted out a sarcastic laugh as she approached her sister’s bed, staring down at her until she reluctantly scooted over to allow her younger sister to lie down next to her. “Why Bellatrix, how you’ve grown.”

“Don’t act like you care Andie.” Bellatrix scowled as she rolled onto her side to face the other girl and propped her head up on her arm. “You hate him almost as much as I do.”

“He’s a slimy prat.” Andromeda nodded and scrunched up her face in disgust. “But Narcissa adores him, she always has.”

“Did you know that Father has already promised her to Abraxas Malfoy?” Bellatrix asked, the disgust in her voice matching the look that was previously gracing her sister’s face. “She has only just turned thirteen.”

“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised.” Andromeda said squeezing her eyes shut briefly as she let the news sink in. “We all know we are just commodities to _Daddy dearest_ and Narcissa has always been his most prized possession. It was an inevitability that her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder.”

“Yes, his flower amongst the ugly thorns. You and I have always been such disappointments to him.” Bellatrix laughed lightly and Andromeda joined in.

“Is it bad that disappointing him makes me feel pretty proud of myself?” The younger girl asked, the chuckle still resounding in her voice.

“Not at all Andie.” Bellatrix answered softly, reaching out to move a stray lock of hair out of her sister’s eyes. “I’d be more worried about you if you didn’t feel that way. The man is an idiot.”

“That is being too kind.” Andromeda grumbled.

Bellatrix beamed at her sister’s distain for their Father and how closely it mirrored her own. “As pleasant as this little chat is, I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss Narcissa’s relationship or even our Father.”

“As fascinating as I find our little sister’s, vaguely inappropriate, relationship with an older boy. No that is not why I came.” Andromeda clarified. “I came to check on you.”

Bellatrix sighed as she flopped down onto her back again. “I do not need checking on Andie.”

“Shut up Bella.” Andromeda said lightly. “You have barely been paying attention to any conversations that Cissy or I have had with you for the last week. You have spent no time in the library and all of your time on the Astronomy Tower stewing. And I know you only torment Lucius when you need to release some tension.”

“When did you get so perceptive little one?” Bellatrix asked affectionately as a light smile slipped on to her features.

“I’ve always been perceptive Bella; _you_ have just never been perceptive enough to notice it before.” This time Andromeda was the one to turn to face her sister. “Talk to me, I know something is bothering you.”

“Andie, it’s nothing really.” Bellatrix replied as she stared at ceiling. “You know how I get. It will pass.”

“Yes, I know how you get. You obsess.” Andromeda reached out and turned her sister’s face towards her. “Is your current obsession a certain bushy haired Ravenclaw by any chance?”

“Is there any point in denying it at this point?” The older witch asked.

“Not really.” Andromeda smirked at her sister’s lack of fight on the subject, she liked when Bellatrix was willing to open up to her a little. The times were few and far between. “I already know you’ve taken a shine to her.”

“Taken a shine to her,” Bellatrix mocked, her words lacking their usual bite as she actually felt a little nervous at the direction of this conversation. “Who are you, Grandmother Rosier?”

Andromeda just rolled her eyes and shook her head at her sister’s pathetic attempt at avoidance. “I see how you struggle when it comes to her Bella. You push her away and ignore her when she is near you and yet you spend every second that she is away from you searching for a glimpse of her.”

“Am I really that obvious?” Bellatrix asked, a hint of pink creeping on to her cheeks.

“Only to me.” Andromeda reassured. “Cissy hadn’t noticed anything until you forgot to protect your mind when Hermione came over to speak to you the other day.”

Bellatrix sighed heavily. “So that is why she was looking so guilty earlier?”

“I’ve tried to make her feel better about it, but you know how she is.” The younger girl pulled a resigned face. “It is hardly her fault that you go to mush around the girl.”

Bellatrix’s head snapped towards her sister. “I do not go to mush”

“Ok maybe you don’t go to mush.” Andromeda replied as she tried to stifle a smile. “But she has definitely got under your skin.”

“I don’t know why she has though.” Bellatrix almost wailed as she covered her face with her hands.

“Because she isn’t scared of you.” Andromeda offered. “Well maybe she is a little scared of you. But she doesn’t let that dominate her thinking about you. It’s almost like she wants to push past all of your… bullshit and figure you out. Nobody other than Cissy and I have ever done that before.”

Bellatrix’s expression seemed to soften at her sister’s words. “I thought I was supposed to be the mature older sister in this situation?”

“You can’t be the mature older sister when you are acting like a love sick puppy.” Andromeda mocked with a supercilious smirk plastered across her features.

“Shut up.” Bellatrix laughed as she gave the younger girl a strong enough shove to send her sprawling from the bed. She rolled over so that she was looking down at the girl who was in a heap on the floor and stuck out her tongue, thoroughly satisfied with herself.

“I was going to ask you if you still needed to blow off some steam.” Andromeda said as she rubbed her elbow where it had clattered against the floorboards as she had landed. “But evidently you do.”

* * *

Within minutes the two dark haired girls found themselves outside of the Room of Requirement, having raced each other the whole way there. Bellatrix had won by a very narrow margin and both girls were breathing heavily as they paced in front of the, currently blank, stretch of wall. The ornate doorway materialised from the brick and the sisters jostled with each other as they reached for the doorknob at the same time. Andromeda got there first this time and she yanked the door open victoriously and marched into the cavernous room that had appeared. The walls of the room were the same grey stone as the rest of the castle but they were bedecked with banners featuring the Slytherin emblem and the Black family crest intermittently. The floor was slightly cushioned and bounced a little as the girls walked across it, the whole placed seemed to be illuminated by a light that had no source. The only thing in the room was a dummy on wheels that sat in one corner, its robes were ripped and slashed in places and its face was so charred that it didn’t even look human anymore.

“We don’t have to do this you know.” Bellatrix spoke up, her voice echoing around the room. “I feel much better now that we’ve had a bit of a chat.”

“Awwww is big bad Bella scared?” Andromeda cooed in the most facetious tone she could summon up.

Bellatrix’s face turned murderous as she stared daggers at her younger sister. “I am not scared of anything.”

“Perhaps you’re not scared of me.” Andromeda smirked. “But you do hate losing and you have yet to beat me.” She hinted at the numerous times they had found themselves in this very room doing exactly what they were about to do.

“I….” Bellatrix began but was cut off by a jet of red light that hit her square in the chest and sent her flying backwards straight onto her arse. She looked up through the pile of curls that had fallen in her face and a growl erupted from deep in her throat. “That was a big mistake Andromeda.”

In a flash Bellatrix was back up on her feet and had sent her own yellow hex firing towards her sister so quickly that it could barely be seen. But with a twist of her body and swish of her robes Andromeda was safely out of the way and smirking. She was always the much more athletic duellist; she saw it as a sport. She believed that by training the body you could keep a step ahead of your opponent, both metaphorically and physically. “Come now Bella. You will have to be better than that.”

Bellatrix slashed her arm through the air and another beam of yellow crackled across the room, she always worked more on instinct. Acting whenever she saw an opening or perceived weakness and not thinking about the knock on effect. Despite the ferocity of the spell Andromeda seemed to sidestep it easily but an errant curl gently smouldered as it settled back on her shoulder suggesting how narrowly she had been missed. Her chestnut eyes widened ever so slightly as she reached up to pat the lock of hair and put a stop to the gentle wisps of smoke that were rising from it. “Is that _better?_ ” Bellatrix mocked as she flung her arms wide and made to advance on her sister.

“Not much.” Andromeda returned in a flat tone as she raised her wand and shot a blue spell in Bellatrix’s direction. The darker girl tried to step out of the way but Andromeda had anticipated her sister’s move and aimed slightly to the left. The spell hit the older girl in the shoulder and forced her to take a few steps backwards to steady herself. “You’re spells are strong, they always are. But you leave yourself too open when you duel. You let your anger rule your head.”

“Well getting knocked on your arse without warning will generally serve to make you angry.” Bellatrix replied as she began to circle around the younger girl. Andromeda kept a careful eye on her opponent and turned subtly on the spot so that she didn’t at any point have her back to her sister. They had done this too many times. Andromeda knew all of her tricks. If Bellatrix wasn’t gaining the upper hand she would resort to dirty tricks. “You know I always work best when I’m fuelled by anger, I need something to feed off when I duel.” The older girl sent a hex towards her sister, but with another graceful twist Andromeda avoided it, earning herself another growl of frustration from Bellatrix.

“Allowing anger to be your fuel is not a bad thing, you have to draw from something.” Andromeda confirmed as she spun her wand between her fingers, trying to act nonchalant but ensuring that she stayed vigilant. Bellatrix was entirely predictable in all of her unpredictability. “But you need to be certain that you are in control of the anger. Otherwise you become sloppy.”

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. “And how do you control your anger Andromeda?” The younger girl narrowed her eyes at the older; she knew there was more to this question than the innocent words would lead her to believe. She knew the question was loaded she could tell by the look in her sister’s eyes. “Is it by fucking your _mudblood_?”

“You bitch.” Andromeda spat as she whipped her wand at her sister, taking the girl’s legs out from under her and leaving her crumpled on the cushioned floor. The younger girl sent a particularly strong stinging jinx at Bellatrix, it struck her on the hand and she hissed in pain. Ted was much more than a mudblood _;_ he was a good, kind boy who made her happy, who made her laugh every time she was with him. She sent another stinging jinx at Bellatrix but she managed to throw herself out of the way this time and the spell just left a scorch mark on the floor.

“Touched a nerve did I?” Bellatrix grinned up at her sister before she threw herself at the girl’s legs sending her toppling over in a heap on the floor too. The floor had not always been cushioned, it had just been solid stone like the walls at one point but after one too many injuries the room had decided it was time for a change. The older witch clambered on top of Andromeda and attempted to pin her hands to the floor but she was being fought off frantically. “So much for controlled anger.”

“You know that I hate it when you call Ted a mudblood.” Andromeda spat as she bucked her hips and threw her sister off to the side so that she could scrabble back to her feet. “You only do it to annoy me. You care as much about Ted’s blood status as I do about the gender of your conquests.”

Bellatrix threw a red curse towards her sister from her spot on the floor; Andromeda leaned to the side to avoid the spell. The older girl took the chance to pounce up from the ground and advance on the other. “The girl’s I have bedded could hardly be called conquests Andie. They all gave in to me far too easily for that.”

“You’re disgusting Bellatrix, must you be so vulgar?” Andromeda snapped as she pulled a face full of disgust, she swirled her wand and a torrent of water washed over her sister leaving her gasping and shell shocked. “You shouldn’t lower yourself to sleeping with people who hand themselves over so willingly.”

“Oh I’m sure Ted Tonks fights you off with a stick when you creep into his bedroom at night.” Bellatrix mocked as she rang out her curls before throwing the still damp tresses over her shoulder and grinning mischievously. She took a stride towards the other girl, encroaching on her personal space and tilting her head to one side as she eyed her up. “I’m sure he tells you how he has too much respect for himself and you two should wait.”

Andromeda gave her sister a strong shove and sent the girl staggering backwards, even as she fought to stay on her feet she was still smiling. The younger girl knew that she was letting Bellatrix under her skin and that it was exactly what the older girl was hoping for but she was just so bloody annoying. “Are you jealous Bella? That someone that I actually care about likes me back.” She sent a half-formed curse at her older sister to send her back a few more paces; if she could back her into a corner she could end this duel quickly. She just needed to keep her distracted and lucky for her it was very easy to distract Bellatrix. “Because that’s what really scares you about Hermione isn’t it?” She took another step forward and Bellatrix took another step backwards as her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “That unlike some of the other girls that you have perused, she hasn’t turned to mush at your cocky smirk.” Bellatrix looked as if she might launch an attack for a second but Andromeda cut her off before she had the chance to move. “That she has stood up to your mocking rather than becoming a giggling mess.” Andromeda moved again and edged the older girl ever closer to the stone behind her, just one more step. “That she isn’t in awe of your brilliance and you so desperately want her to be.”

“Shut up Andromeda.” Bellatrix roared as a bright fountain of orange sparks erupted from the end of her wand sending the younger girl sprinting away as the embers singed her skin where they landed.

“What the hell was that?” Andromeda bellowed as she slashed her wand at her sister who threw up a hasty _Protego_ to block the spell.

Bellatrix looked at her hand where the sparks had burned her skin too. “I have no idea, I was just annoyed.”

“For God’s sake Bellatrix when will you learn some control? You’ll never win a duel if you don’t.” Andromeda chastised as she analysed her own pockmarked hands with a frown. With a grunt of annoyance she sent a silent _Petrificus Totalus_ towards the older girl. There were only two ways to end a duel between the Black sisters; immobilise your opponent or draw blood. Unfortunately Bellatrix had managed to clumsily duck out of the way of her attempted body bind.

“I told you before I’m not scared of anything.” Bellatrix snapped by way of a half-hearted defence. As she went to take a step towards her sister she was quickly stopped in her tracks when Andromeda flicked her wand and she felt a sharp sting across her cheek.

“You are scared, scared that you will have to work for Hermione and it still might not be enough.” Andromeda said softy as she looked upon her sister with kind eyes and a sympathetic smile. “And you’re bleeding, which means I win. _Again_.”

Bellatrix furrowed her brow but reached up to touch the spot on her cheek that was still stinging. When she looked down at her fingers, sure enough they were stained red.

* * *

Night had fallen a few hours ago and most of the occupants of the castle were beginning to retire to their beds but Hermione wasn’t tired. She had far too many thoughts and worries flying around in her head to be granted a decent nights rest. She needed some place that she could go and mull things over, some place she could be truly alone with her own thoughts. In truth she needed somewhere to sulk. To sulk about how unfair it was that she was stuck in 1969, how unfair it was that she would never see her friends again and how unfair it was that Bellatrix was treating her like some pariah even though she had apologised more than once.

Hermione didn’t really have a destination in mind, she was simply wandering mindlessly. Originally she had thought about heading up to the owlery, like she used to in her own time but the thought stung just a little bit too much to follow through on. Instead she had meandered aimlessly until her wandering feet had begun to tromp up the staircase of one of Hogwarts many towers. She soon found herself at the top of the Astronomy tower, the place held a bittersweet resonance. It was the place where Dumbledore had perished but it was also one of the more beautiful parts of the castle with its rolling vista of mountains surrounding the school. She stepped towards the railings and allowed her eyes to scan the landscape as she pondered on how similar this world looked to her own, if she could dull the voices screaming obscenities in her mind for a minute she could pretend that she was back there. She could pretend that when she ventured down from the turret Ron and Harry would be waiting for her and they could stroll back to the cosy Gryffindor common room as they laughed about something stupid Draco had done that day. But that was not her reality anymore, she was stuck here all alone and the nearest thing she had to a friendship was Bellatrix Black.

Hermione had always tried to do the right thing, be a good person, treat people well. So why did the world seem determined to shit on her from a great height at every opportunity. She had been a witch stuck in a muggle world filled with relief when she received her letter to Hogwarts only to find that there she was a muggle-born thrown into a world she didn’t understand. She had been caught up in a war that she had no part in starting but was for some reason expected to help end. She had been tortured, she had watched friends die, she had been forced to remove all trace of herself from her parent’s minds. And then just when she was finding her feet and beginning to find her place in the mess the world had become the rug was pulled from beneath her all over again. It was utter bullshit. Her whole life felt like utter bullshit. Hermione looked up to the sky, the gleeful beauty of the twinkling stars above her even seemed to be mocking her dark mood by trying to cast some unwelcomed light into her gloom. She felt rage bubble up from the depths of her gut; she gripped the edge of the railings until her knuckles turned white trying to control the urge to start burning the world. She wanted to cause destruction, she wanted somebody else to have to feel the way that she felt right now, she wanted somebody else to have to shoulder this burden she had been saddled with. But she knew deep down that she could never be that person, a person who would willingly cause harm to another. Hermione breathed deeply through her nose and tried to fight down the fire within her but she was losing the battle, “Fuuuuuuuck” she screamed into the emptiness of the night. “Fuck everything, fuck everyone out there that wants to ruin my life, just fuck you.” She threw her hand over her mouth and muffled a sob, she staggered back away from the railing as if she had been thrown back by the force of her own outburst. Her mind was reeling and she felt dizzy and fuzzy, she took another wobbly step backwards but found her foot meeting only empty air. She was closer the staircase leading down from the tower than she had realised, as she was about to let out a yelp of horror to signal her impending doom when an arm wrapped around her waist firmly and stopped her fall before it even happened.

“You’re ok, I’ve got you.” A reassuring voice soothed as Hermione was set steadily back on her feet. She found herself enveloped in the scent of Jasmine and cedar wood, it was familiar in a distant sort of way. Like she had dreamed of it before. “You need to be careful up here.”

At the slightly chastising tone Hermione shook her head to clear some of the fog and began to register that it was Bellatrix that was still holding her up. “I was being careful I just…” she trailed off as she moved away from the other girl’s body and took her own weight cautiously.

“Screaming at nothing.” Bellatrix finished for her as she reluctantly allowed the other girl to step away from her but kept a cautionary arm stretched out towards her just in case. The trace of a smirk tugging at her features disappeared quickly when she saw Hermione’s face pale in embarrassment. “I get it, it’s beautiful up here and sometimes you just have to ruin something beautiful.”

Hermione looked away from Bellatrix and moved back over to the railings to look over the mountains in the distance again. She didn’t want to admit out loud that Bellatrix had essentially just summed up exactly what she had been doing up here, although inadvertently. “What are you doing up here?” She asked, deciding that going on the defensive was her best course of action.

Bellatrix chuckled softly and came to join the bushy haired girl at the edge of the tower, her eyes flicking across the landscape too. “Well it would seem that you have found my usual hiding spot. I come up here to be alone when things are bothering me. I come up here most nights.”

“Things bother you that often?” Hermione asked quietly, almost robotically.

“Be careful, it almost sounded like you cared there.” Bellatrix sniped, despite her earlier thoughts about forgiving Hermione next time that she saw her.

Hermione let out a weary sigh. “Forget I said anything.”

Both girls were silent for a few minutes before Bellatrix muttered. “I know, it’s hard to imagine.” Although Hermione still wasn’t looking at her the eye roll was evident in her voice. “The spoiled rich girl couldn’t possibly have any problems that keep her up at night.”

“That’s not what I think.” Hermione said as she turned to look at the other girl, the breeze was picking up a few of her inky tendrils, their colour almost as dark as the night sky around her. “I don’t think that wealth eradicates all of the problems from a person’s life. This world is…fucked, money doesn’t change that.”

“Do you really believe that?” Bellatrix asked as she met Hermione’s eyes. “Do you believe that the world is fucked?”

Hermione nodded her head slowly, her eyes turning sad as she tried desperately not to let herself cry. “I’ve seen enough of it to know that it is.”

“Maybe it is fucked right now but I think that we can change it.” Bellatrix said confidently and for the first time Hermione saw the girl in front of her as exactly that. She was still just a girl, filled with a childlike confidence and arrogance that Hermione had long since lost. As she looked at the fire in the darker haired girl’s eyes she felt a desperate desire to protect that invincibility in Bellatrix for as long as she possibly could.

“I hope that you can.” Hermione said softly, knowing that whatever change Bellatrix saw for this world was completely different from the perfect world that she could conjure up in her own mind. Bellatrix saw a world free from muggles and muggle-borns, where pure bloods reigned supreme and wizards could live without hiding. Hermione saw a world where she could live in peace and quiet, a harmonious community that could live alongside each other.

“Hermione.” Bellatrix said gently, tasting the syllables on her tongue as the word slid from her mouth for the first time. “I don’t do this often so please listen” She paused to make sure that she had the other girls full attention, she took a deep breath as though she was readying herself to do something incredibly difficult. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an utter arse to you recently.”

A warm smile slipped onto Hermione’s face as she acknowledged Bellatrix’s awkward words. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to understand you.” As the words left her mouth she wasn’t sure if she meant trying not to understand Bellatrix Black of right now or for never taking the time to try and understand the Bellatrix Lestrange from her time.


	8. Destiny

Hermione and Bellatrix had found an easy rhythm in the weeks following their argument; it had started tentatively at first, with the girls finding excuses to ‘ _accidentally’_ bump into one another. But as each girl found the other receptive to the other’s company they grew in confidence and began to actively seek each other out. Both were careful not to lash out at the other and both were cautious to hold their tongues so as not to start anymore unnecessary arguments, things seemed to be working out. The two girls had established a regular meeting point; sitting atop the Astronomy tower heatedly discussing one topic or another or doing homework while enjoying the quiet companionship.

During their conversations Hermione had discovered that Bellatrix wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic, specifically for the International Magical Office of Law. Her burning desire was to travel, to experience other cultures, to learn more about the world and she couldn’t imagine anything better than to be paid for doing it. Hermione learned that Bellatrix’s passion was History of Magic but she could not stand Professor Binns, she claimed that he took all of the joy out of the subject. She believed that the man was solely responsible for the distinct lack of Magical Historians in Britain today. Hermione could hardly disagree, his dyer lessons were why she hadn’t taken History of Magic as a N.E.W.T. herself. Professor Dumbledore allowed Bellatrix to be enrolled on to the History of Magic course while she conducted her own research, as long as she checked in with him every other week so that he could check over her work. The fervour with which Bellatrix spoke about topics like the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 and the evidence of it that could still be found in and around Hogsmeade Village made Hermione wish that she had listened more when she was in classes. She had learned more from Bellatrix over the last couple of weeks than she had in years studying under Professor Binns.

It came to light that on the night Bellatrix had not turned up to the library; she had been holed up in the Room of Requirement researching some obscure Historical fact or other. Bellatrix had made it her mission to prove that Urg the Unclean did not deserve his reputation as _‘The Butcher of the Rebellion’_ , a name he had earned by inadvertently leading his band of fellow goblins to their slaughter. She was certain that the wizards had been tipped off about Urg’s plan to attack by one of his very own goblins but that this fact had been wiped from history in order to make the wizarding community seem more triumphant. At first Hermione had been confused by Bellatrix’s determination, despite the fact that Urg had been dead for centuries the Slytherin seemed hell bent on clearing his name. She hadn’t seen why it was so important to the other girl to fix the obscure goblins unjust reputation but one day it had dawned on her that Bellatrix herself had an unjust reputation. But no one was fighting to clear her name. People feared Bellatrix, they avoided her in corridors and sneered at her across the Great Hall at meal times, when apart from a few dirty looks and an annoyingly superior attitude, the black haired girl didn’t seem to have done anything wrong. None of it seemed very fair, no wonder Bellatrix always seemed to be walking around in such a bad mood.

One particular evening Hermione had suggested to Bellatrix that maybe she should try to replace Binns as the Professor of History of Magic when she graduated from Hogwarts. The excitement that had been playing in the Slytherin’s eyes had died so quickly that Hermione had questioned it before her mind had caught up with her actions. For a few heart stopping moments Bellatrix had remained in a brooding silence and Hermione had worried that she had finally pushed the other girl too far. But eventually Bellatrix had spoken with great sadness in her voice and explained how rarely she allowed herself to consider her own future because she knew that she had no say in it. That once she came of age her Father would marry her off to some pureblood boy, who she already hated, in order to further one of his own business ventures. And then she would be expected to stay at home and take care of the home, produce an heir or two and waste her talents until the day she died. Pureblood women were not supposed to have minds and they were certainly not supposed to have aspirations, they would only lead to heartbreak when those aspirations inevitably ended up painfully unfulfilled. It hurt Hermione’s heart to think of this brilliant witch being expected to waste her skills on simple household magic and chores. And it worried her that the more she learned about Bellatrix the more she could begin to understand why the life that Tom Riddle offered her would seem so appealing.

Tonight they sat on top of the Astronomy Tower once more, on the edge of the turret with their legs hanging into the abyss and their eyes scanning the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Bellatrix had managed to wiggle a rare nugget of information free from Hermione’s usually closed off character.

“What do you mean you can’t fly?” The pureblood asked incredulously.

“I don’t know how else to explain it.” Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes. “A broomstick and I just do not mix.”

“But you’re a witch.” Bellatrix stated dumbly as if this simple fact would solve the problem entirely.

“Really?” Sarcasm dripped from the word as Hermione uttered it. “I did wonder why that stick in my pocket kept letting off sparks.”

Bellatrix smirked salaciously. “That’s only happening because you’re exceeding pleased to see me.”

The comment earned her a backhand across the arm from the bushy haired witch as she fought down a blush. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”

“How can I help it when you’re making comments like that?” Bellatrix defended, the smirk still firmly on her face. “And don’t try to change the subject. You _can’t_ fly!”

“No Bellatrix.” Hermione sighed. “I can’t fly.”

“Did your Dad not teach you when you were younger?” Bellatrix asked more gently this time, her jest having given way to genuine curiosity now.

“No my Dad never taught me.” Hermione felt her body heat up as nerves hit her, no her Dad had never taught her to fly a broom because he was a muggle and had no idea that flying brooms were anything other than a fairy tale. But she couldn’t very well tell Bellatrix that now could she? “He was always too busy with work to do anything like that.”

Bellatrix hummed pensively as she digested that piece of information. “My father is pretty ineffectual overall. But the one useful thing he has ever done for me was teach me how to fly a broom.” She was silent for a few moments, becoming lost somewhere in her own past. “He was desperate for a son, he realised he was going to have to settle for me as the next best thing quite early on in my life. So he taught me how to fly when I was five, he used to take me out around the grounds of our manner on a training broom most evenings in the summer. For my eleventh birthday I asked for the Comet 220, it was due to be released two days before my birthday and I couldn’t imagine anything better than turning up to Hogwarts with that thrown across my shoulder. I woke up the morning of my birthday and I rushed downstairs but I had received everything I asked for except the broom. I asked my father about it sometime later, he told me that flying was fine when I was child, now that I was a young lady it was not fitting for me to be racing around on a broom. We have spent virtually no time together since that day; I was so angry at him, I felt as though he had taken away the only thing that had ever made me feel truly free.”

“Harry used to say that about flying.” Hermione muttered. She didn’t even register that she had actually spoken out loud; Bellatrix’s revelry had made her feel nostalgic. “He loved it because he was free. Free from people’s expectations. Free from stares around school. Just him and the broom and how far he could push it.”

The black haired witch didn’t miss the warm glow that filled the other girl’s eyes when she spoke about this _Harry_ and she couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that erupted in the pit of her stomach. “Who’s Harry?” She asked in as nonchalant a tone as she could muster with her heartrate as elevated as it was in that moment.

“A friend from Beauxbatons.” Hermione said quickly, she hoped that they could move the conversation swiftly away from the dangerous territory it was currently in. But her obvious thinly veiled lie and nervous demeanour did not escape Bellatrix’s eagle-eye.

“Just a friend?” Bellatrix snapped, her jealousy giving way to anger at the thought that Hermione could be pining after some lost love in France. “Or were you two ever more?”

Hermione shook her head as her eyes slipped closed and she fought to keep her emotions in check. She so rarely permitted herself to think about the boys, it was simply too painful to allow her mind to dwell there for too long. The thought that she would never hear their voices again, never see their faces glowing with excitement over a stupid Quidditch match again, never have to try and fix Harry’s unruly hair again, never have to correct Ron on some half learned fact again, never get to be the voice of reason in their ridiculous schemes again was almost enough to break her entirely. So she did not let herself think about it. Until right now. With Bellatrix watching her desperate attempt to compose herself, a battle she was failing miserably.

Bellatrix gently reached out and tucked a strand of hair, which had been misplaced by the late October breeze, back behind Hermione’s ear. Her hand lingered there a moment when the bushy haired girl leant ever so slightly into the unexpected comfort of her touch. Her jealousy quickly gave way to care as she saw how upset Hermione was. “I know what it’s like to lose things that you love. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me.” Hermione said as she swallowed thickly and attempted a weak smile. “It’s just hard to be away from everything that I know, I try to ignore it but sometimes it gets on top of me.”

“You shouldn’t bottle things up.” Bellatrix stated softly as she tilted her head to try and catch Hermione’s reluctant soft brown eyes. “I know from experience how hard it is to keep pain contained. It changes you when you try, it makes you cold.”

Hermione caught the look of sadness that flittered through Bellatrix’s dark eyes, for someone that she had always thought to be untouchable and uncaring the Slytherin had a very low opinion of herself. “Is that what you think? That you’re cold?” Hermione paused to gauge the other girl’s reaction, but when no response other than her picking invisible fluff from her skirt was forthcoming she continued. “You’re not cold. Bellatrix you are fire personified, I see the way you care for Narcissa and Andromeda. You protect them with a fierceness people can only wish to possess” She reassured wholeheartedly, not even questioning her desire to comfort the other girl. “But it isn’t an option for me to let things out, I just…can’t.”

Bellatrix looked away, not sure how to respond to such genuine emotion. People usually pushed her away, treated her like she was something diseased. She wanted to say something to Hermione about how much it meant to her that she was sat here listening to her talk about her life. But she knew she would never be able to find words to do justice to what she was feeling, so instead she ignored it entirely and just moved on. “I won’t push you about opening up, but if you ever change your mind I’m here to listen.” Bellatrix offered simply but sincerely as she finally looked back at Hermione with a gentle smile. 

“I appreciate that.” Hermione said, returning the smile warmly. She could see the seriousness that had set in to the dark haired girl’s features; she could see how she was beginning to retreat into her own mind. But she wanted to keep Bellatrix here…with her. “Be careful though, you’re starting to sound like care.” The repeating, in jest, of Bellatrix’s own words from their argument felt cathartic, it felt like the elephant in the room had finally been addressed. “Won’t that ruin your street cred?”

“Shut up Ross.” Bellatrix laughed as she bumped shoulders with the bushy haired witch, without having to say it out loud it was recognition that everything had been forgiven. “Anyway how did we get from you can’t fly to you almost crying over some boy?”

“You’re talk of flying made me think about my _friend_ Harry.” Hermione replied with a pointedly raised eyebrow. She put emphasis on the word friend and was rewarded with a slight blush from the other girl by doing so. “He loved Quidditch, he was the youngest seeker in a century.”

“Clearly the boy has good taste.” Bellatrix spoke in a mocking voice but it lacked its usual harshness, she examined her nails rather than look at Hermione as she added. “In friends as well as sport.”

Hermione swallowed at the rare compliment to come from the pureblood, she wasn’t sure how to respond so she led the conversation onto what she hoped was safer ground. “Do you play Quidditch?”

“I did…I do…But not for the school team or anything.” Bellatrix stumbled over her words with an unexplained nervousness, her blush from a moment ago intensifying. “I tried out in my first year, I was the only girl to make the team…I was made beater.”

“Why don’t you play anymore?” Hermione asked, intrigued to learn yet more about the enigma that is Bellatrix Black. “I imagine you would be fierce on the Quidditch pitch. I certainly wouldn’t like to come up against you.”

“I didn’t even get to play a game.” Bellatrix said in a small voice as she raked her hand through her curls and tried to subtly rearrange them so that they shielded her face from Hermione. “My father found out I had made the team and he lost it. He wrote to the school and said that he would withdraw me from Hogwarts entirely if they didn’t remove me from the team, no daughter of his was going to besmirch the family name by flying around like some commoner.”

“What difference does it make to the _family name_ if you play Quidditch or not?” Hermione asked, her temper getting the better of her as she spoke.

“Apparently ladies do not play Quidditch.” Bellatrix replied with a snort.

Hermione almost growled in frustration, that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Women could play Quidditch, the Hollyhead Harpies were an incredibly successful all female Quidditch team. “But you’re not a _lady_. You’re a girl. It’s ridiculous that those expectations are placed on you now.”

“Not being able to play Quidditch and being expected to behave like a lady are the least of my worries to be honest.” Bellatrix laughed hollowly, she sat there quietly for a few moments just picking at her nails. “The worst part of the whole thing was that I had just got my uniform. I was so proud to have it, to fly around in Slytherin colours. It was all I had dreamed about when I was a child. I was trying my uniform on for the first time when Slughorn came to inform me of the owl he had received from my father. I was….crushed.”

“Oh Bella.” Hermione whispered, the thought that Bellatrix was so upset about Quidditch could seem trivial to someone else. But she knew it represented much more than that to the dark haired girl, she was upset that yet another choice in her life had been taken away. She couldn’t choose the family she had been born into and yet people judged her for it. She couldn’t choose who she would marry, her father would do that for her. She couldn’t choose to have a job, no self-respecting pureblood man would let his wife work. And then to top it all off she couldn’t even choose to do something as inconsequential as play Quidditch because it wasn’t deemed ladylike. Hermione wanted to roar in frustration, she wanted to storm through the world and change it so that Bellatrix could do whatever it was that she wanted. A force like Bellatrix should never be beholden to anyone else’s expectations of her. “I wish things could be different for you.” Hermione offered as she reached out slowly to lay her hand on top of Bellatrix’s very gently, as if she was reaching out to touch a startled animal that she was worried about scaring off.

“You called me Bella” Bellatrix said almost absentmindedly, as if she was lost in a daydream somewhere. She was staring at the spot where Hermione’s hand was touching her own, a mixture of confusion and contentment playing on her features.

“I’m sorry… I… don’t know what I was thinking.” Hermione stuttered, embarrassment evident in her voice and the swift colouring of her cheeks. She went to snatch her hand away but Bellatrix moved quickly, catching her retreating hand and interlocking their fingers and keeping her effectively trapped.

“No I like it.” Bellatrix reassured as she stared out at Hogwarts grounds so as not to have to look at Hermione. Her thumb traced a feather-light pattern on the bushy haired witch’s hand and she revelled in the softness of her skin. “Only my sisters call me Bella. Only people that care about me call me Bella.”

* * *

Hermione was in a rush to get out of Arithmancy, the lesson had been a killer and her head was pounding from the level of concentration it had taken to keep up. All she wanted to do was go back to her dorm room and lie in the dark. As she pushed past a particularly slow moving group of Hufflepuff girls she walked straight into someone who was trying to force their way in the other direction.

The distinct sound of books hitting the floor was heard followed by an exasperated exclamation of “Hey, watch where you’re going.” The person bent to hastily collect up their fallen things with a heavy sigh and without even looking to see who they had run into.

Hermione on the other hand looked down at the mass of black curls with a smirk; she would know who that harsh voice belonged to with her eyes closed. She cleared her throat and put on as stern a voice as she could muster. “I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the one who should be watching where they’re going.”

Bellatrix looked up from the floor where she was still in the process of retrieving her scattered belongings, her eyes blazing thinking that someone had dared talk back to her. “Oh Ross.” Her expression changed swiftly from all out irritation to bemused smile as she stood up gracefully from the floor. “I was on my way to find you, I wanted to catch you before you left Arithmancy but I got stuck behind that lot who were moving at snail’s pace.”

“How did you know I had Arithmancy?” Hermione asked gently, a soft smile playing on her lips. One thing she had learned about Bellatrix over the last few weeks it that she was full of surprises and she sensed today she had something up her sleeve.

“You told me how you were struggling with the topic you were covering in Arithmancy right now.” Bellatrix answered sheepishly as she picked at the corner of one of the books that she was now holding again. “I found out when Arithmancy was on for seventh years.”

Hermione’s smile beamed as she reached out to briefly squeeze the Slytherin’s forearm. “That was…sweet Bellatrix. I didn’t think you would remember me talking about that.”

“Yeah, well I thought that you could probably do with some cheering up.” Bellatrix dismissed the other girl’s comment with a wave of her hand, if there was one thing she really struggled with it was taking a compliment. So she dealt with her discomfort the only way that she knew how, by piling on the sarcasm. “And I know how my mere presence does that for you.”

“Yes. You are a ray of sunshine in my otherwise cloudy day.” Hermione replied sarcastically. She smiled internally at Bellatrix’s obvious avoidance as she allowed her to lead the conversation away from the seriousness she knew made the girl feel awkward.

“You know what Ross I’ve been told that many times before.” Bellatrix smirked, her usual cocky smirk lighting up her features. “In fact I have lost count of how many times I have heard that only today.”

“Oh really? Have you made a habit of following people around the castle Bellatrix?” Hermione asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible while trying not to laugh at the other girl’s now horrified expression. “That is how you get yourself a reputation, you know?”

Bellatrix caught on to her mocking pretty quickly though and laughed, one of her true laughs that made Hermione’s stomach flutter whenever she heard it. “Ross, you have not been here long enough. I already have a reputation. And a pretty terrible one at that.”

Hermione hummed as if she was mulling this information over. “Well perhaps I should stay away from you then. I don’t want to make myself the subject of idle gossip.”

“Don’t worry.” Bellatrix shook her head and stage whispered behind her hand as two Ravenclaw girls skirted past them in the corridor and shot them a furtive glance. “People are too scared of me to gossip. I get away with everything around here.”

“Well I think your streak has come to an end.” Hermione stated as she cocked her hip and crossed her arms across her chest. “Because you will certainly not be getting away with everything with me.”

“Good.” Bellatrix chuckled softly as she bit her lip and allowed her gaze to flit appreciatively over the other girl’s form before she realised what she was doing and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Now I know you didn’t come to find me to talk about your creepy habit of following people around the castle.” Hermione mocked, not noticing the black haired witch’s sudden struggle with herself or the slight pink tint to her cheeks that had just begun to bloom. “What did you really have planned?”

Bellatrix recovered herself pretty quickly, attack being the best form of defence and all. “First, I do not have a creepy habit. You will be pleased to hear that you are the only person I follow around the castle.” She threw back with a flirty wink. “Second, I wanted to show you some research I found regarding Urg the Unclean. I wanted your advice.”

“Of course Bellatrix. I love looking over your research.” Hermione said sincerely as she tried to fight down another flutter in her stomach that Bellatrix’s wink had caused. “What have you found?”

“I’ve found this information on a goblin named Rabat, he was one of Urg’s soldiers. I know because I have read about him before in the translated goblin retelling of the battle.” Bellatrix held up one of the books she was carrying and tapped the cover excitedly. “But according to this book by Ralston Potter, who was a wizard general during the rebellion Rabat was a sympathiser, he fought alongside the wizards during the battles.” Bellatrix paused, waiting for Hermione to reply to her barrage of information. When the other girl just chewed pensively on her lip she continued. “Don’t you see? According to the Goblins, Rabat was on their side. According to the wizards, Rabat was on their side. He could be the double agent, the one feeding information about the goblins’ movements to the wizards.”

Hermione took an excited step towards the other girl. She knew how much this research meant to Bellatrix and how this could very plausibly be the breakthrough she had been looking for. “Do you have any more information on Rabat?”

Bellatrix took a breath to steady herself, with Hermione’s sudden close proximity the girl’s vanilla scent had invaded her senses and clouded her mind for a second. “Ye…yes, he survived the rebellion. As did all of his family.”

“Which was a rarity during the rebellion?” Hermione asked quickly, she seemed to remember Bellatrix talking about how few Goblins had lived through the struggles. Her amber eyes met Bellatrix’s almost black ones and she recognised the fire of discovery deep within them. She had never met anyone who had the same passion for knowledge as she did; at times she wondered whether the black haired girl’s intensity might rival even her own.

“Practically unheard of. Everyone had always just put it down to luck. But now it would appear it was much more than that” Bellatrix answered with a smile, thanking any Gods that were listening that she had finally found somebody in this dump that could keep up with her. “The wizards were ruthless, they went after the goblin’s wives and children to draw them away from the front lines and back to their homes where they would be more vulnerable. Then they would slaughter them.”

“So something was keeping Rabat’s family safe.” Hermione stated this time a smile creeping on to her face to match Bellatrix. The girl was just so infectious.

“According to Potter’s book, Rabat was the only goblin after the rebellion to be given a job at Gringotts again” Bellatrix carried on excitedly as she subconsciously leaned nearer to Hermione as she got carried away. From this distance she could see all of the freckles scattered across the other girl’s cheeks like a new constellation ready to be explored. “A…after the rebellion Gringotts Bank was under the control of the wizards. No one in the country trusted the goblins anymore, especially with something as precious as their money. The entire goblin community was living in poverty. Well, all but Rabat it would seem.”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically her eyes twinkling as she coaxed Bellatrix to continue. “The Ministry obviously trusted him then.”

“And there is only one reason why they would trust him after everything that the Goblins had done.” Bellatrix started but paused when she noticed Hermione itching to say something.

“He had already proved he was worth their trust. By feeding them information during the rebellion.” Hermione finished off the black haired girl’s point with a hint of awe in her voice.

“Exactly.” Bellatrix almost shouted as she reached out and grabbed Hermione’s hand without thinking. “I think he could be it, I think he could be the missing piece I’ve been looking for.”

“Bellatrix….you’re brilliant.” Hermione blundered out before she could stop herself. Her gaze dropped to where Bellatrix’s hand had grasped her own before looking back up at the other girl sheepishly. “I mean… it’s brilliant. You know, that you’re finally getting somewhere.”

“Yeah, it is brilliant.” Bellatrix gave Hermione’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go of it self-consciously. She looked at the floor and kicked at a small stone with her toe before speaking again. “Ross, there is a trip to Hogsmeade coming up this weekend. I was wondering if you were thinking of going?”

“Well, I didn’t really know about it.” Hermione admitted in a small voice. She really wanted to go into Hogsmeade with Bellatrix, she didn’t know why she wanted to go so badly but it all of a sudden felt incredibly important to her. Her heart sank though as she remembered how difficult it had been for Harry to get into Hogsmeade without his guardians written permission. “I’m…I’m not sure if I’m able to go. I have no way of getting my consent form signed.”

“If we sent an owl right now your parents reply would probably be back in time for the weekend.” Bellatrix replied in an excited voice, not ready to give in to Hermione’s defeatist attitude just yet.

Hermione swallowed thickly as she realised she would have to lie to Bellatrix again about her life. The closer she got to the girl and the more Slytherin opened up to her, the more she felt like she was deceiving the girl by pretending to be something she was not. “I don’t have any contact with my parents.” She decided that keeping things as simple as possible was the best course of action, plus it wasn’t a complete lie was it?

“Oh, right. Ok, well never mind.” Bellatrix pulled a face and shrugged trying not to look as disappointed as she felt. She had really wanted Hermione to come into Hogsmeade with her. She had thought about what it would be like to share her version of the village with someone who cared, unlike Andie and Cissy who just humoured her. She had imagined what it would be like to finally have someone to go into the Three Broomsticks with and laugh at the third years that were trying Honeydukes’ acid pops or exploding bonbons for the first time.

Hermione hesitated briefly before she spoke, her eyes narrowing as she took in Bellatrix’s defeated posture. “I’m sorry Bellatrix. I’m sure you can find somebody else to go with you.”

“I usually go to Hogsmeade on my own.” Bellatrix said with a shrug but still she was looking anywhere but at Hermione. “I don’t care for the shops while every other student seems to be obsessed with wasting money on Dungbombs and biting teacups from that ridiculous Zonko’s shop. I prefer to look at the historical features, see if I can discover something new.”

“I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore tomorrow; I could ask if he is able to give me permission to go into Hogsmeade.” Hermione suggested as she watched Bellatrix carefully for a reaction.

“That would be…” Bellatrix stuttered over what to say as her head snapped up to look at Hermione again finally. Part of her wanted to tell her that she was really hoped Dumbledore would let her come to Hogsmeade with her because those days made her feel even more lonely than normal. But instead she went with. “Yeah that would be good.” She screwed her eyes shut and mentally cursed herself for making herself look like such a blundering fool. She tried to rescue the situation. “I…I can show you all of the places you have been hearing about for the last couple of weeks.”

Hermione smirked as she took in the usually unflappable girl who was currently looking rather flustered for some reason. She decided to take a leaf out of Bellatrix’s book and cut the tension with mockery. “Yeah that would be good.”

* * *

The sound of a charming, tinkling bell filled Dumbledore’s office alerting him to the presence of somebody at the bottom of the staircase leading to the cavernous room. He rose from the high backed chair behind his desk and waved his wand, a few instruments zipped their way into the cabinets that lined the room and the glass door swung shut securely behind them. The wizard nodded once in approval at the state of the room before he made his way across to the heavy oak door and pulled it open.

“Good evening Miss Granger.” Dumbledore greeted as he gestured for the young woman to enter his office. “A pleasure to see you as always.”

“Good evening Professor.” Hermione returned with a tight smile, the meetings with the older wizard always made her a little nervous but she could not put her finger on why. Perhaps it was the fear that she would have broken one of the stupid rules imposed on her.

“It is a beautiful night; shall we sit by the window where we can see the stars?” Dumbledore observed the brunette witch for a second through his half-moon spectacles, a knowing smile brightening his features before he added. “Your love of the astronomy tower has been noted.”

“I have been spending a lot of time up there lately.” Hermione chuckled gently and tucked a fallen curl behind her ear self-consciously. She made her way over to the two midnight blue armchairs that were set up in front of the office’s large window. She lowered herself stiffly into one of the seats and wrung her hands together anxiously as she waited for the man to join her. Her mind was working over time trying to figure out how the headmaster knew where she spent her evenings.

“Would you like some tea Hermione?” Dumbledore called brightly from elsewhere in the room. “I find it works wonders for calming the nerves.”

Hermione looked over the back of the armchair at the headmaster who had that mischievous look on his face. She quickly untangled her hands from one another and gave them a shake for good measure, internally cursing at giving herself away so easily. “Yes please Sir, that sounds lovely.”

Dumbledore made his way over to the other armchair with two steaming teacups in mismatched saucers; he gently passed one to the girl before flopping into his seat with a sigh. He gazed out of the window for a few moments as though lost in contemplation, taking a few delicate sips of his tea as his companion waited with bated breath for him to remember she was there. “It is a little over three weeks since I saw you last Hermione. How has 1969 been treating you?”

“It is treating me well I think Sir.” Hermione took a sip of her own tea, hoping to sate the dryness that had bloomed in her throat. “My classes seem to be going well, I have made a few friends and I feel more settled. I have finally stopped heading up to Gryffindor tower when I want to go to my room, so I am taking that as a small victory.”

“Oh I would take that as a large victory.” Dumbledore smiled warmly as he looked away from the window to observe the brunette. “Another victory I would like to congratulate you on is that you and Miss Black seem to be back on speaking terms. Last time we spoke you were not in her good books.”

“Yes, we seem to be getting along for the time being.” Hermione replied, trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. Of all of the things that she thought would register on the headmaster’s radar, she would not have considered the relationship between two teenage girls to even cause a blip.

“Do you foresee more problems in the future?” The headmaster probed good-naturedly, confusing Hermione even further with his continued interest in this topic.

“I don’t intend to cause any more problems.” The bushy haired witch muttered quietly as she swirled the contents of her teacup distractedly. She thought about how careful she had been around the other girl since their argument, how she didn’t want to push their truce too far for fear of losing the only person she really had in 1969. “Bellatrix can be… _unpredictable_ at times though.”

“That is certainly one way to describe Miss Black.” Dumbledore laughed as he nodded his agreement to Hermione’s assessment of Bellatrix. “I was quite surprised when I found out that you two were spending time together.”

He was surprised that they were spending time together? If someone had told her a few months ago that she would be spending her evenings with Bellatrix, through her own choice, she would have had them admitted to St Mungo’s on the spot. As much as her rational mind told her that she should create some distance from the girl she just didn’t seem able to do it. If she was honest with herself, when the black haired witch wasn’t around, she missed having to think about what she said before she said it. She missed the intellectual conversations about things that actually mattered. She missed looking for little clues that would help her to figure out the conundrum that was Bellatrix Black. Hermione chuckled dryly before she spoke, “Believe me Sir, not as surprised as me.”

Dumbledore took another sip of his tea as he observed Hermione and her now slightly pink cheeks. “I imagine after everything that Bellatrix put you through in your time that she is the last person you thought you would, if I may be so bold, have become _friends_ with.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I wasn’t aware that we had discussed my… interactions with Bellatrix.” Hermione tried to say in as respectful a tone as she could muster. But she couldn’t help the curl of anger that licked up her chest as she tried to figure out how the headmaster was privy to information she had shared with no one. She knew the man was accomplished in Legilimency, she thought that he was better than abusing that power to invade her privacy though.

“No, no my apologies Miss Granger, you are quite correct. We have not discussed your past, or rather future, relationship with Miss Black.” Dumbledore said as he placed his cup and saucer on the table that sat between the two armchairs. He turned in his seat in order to face Hermione more fully and continued gently. “But I am afraid your scar gave you away.”

“My scar?” Hermione asked, her hand coming up to cover her forearm where the scarred slur was still safely hidden under the sleeve of her school cardigan.

“When you first arrived I was summoned to the infirmary by, a more than slightly perturbed, Madam Pomfrey. While she was checking you over she had discovered your scar and was unable to heal it. I think it may be the first time she has come across a malady she has been powerless to remedy.” Dumbledore explained, he tried to keep the tale light but the man could see the dark cloud descending over Hermione as he spoke. “I recognised the Black’s calling card immediately; Bellatrix’s father Cygnus perfected the art of creating these dark scars that do not heal. He thought that marking his enemies for eternity would remind them not to come into conflict with the Black family again”

“Bellatrix is not the only Black though Sir.” Hermione said sceptically, Dumbledore had always had a way of knowing everything when she was at Hogwarts. But she had always assumed that it had something to do with the school’s enchantments, so how did he know everything about the future too?

“No, indeed she is not.” Dumbledore nodded again, his silvery hair catching the moonlight as he moved. “But I made an educated guess. Was I correct in my assumption?”

“Yes.” Hermione said simply as she took her turn observing her companion for a moment. There was something that the older man was holding back. She knew that she should let him keep his cards close to his chest. She knew that he always had the greater good in mind but Merlin was she sick to death of being kept in the dark because of the greater fucking good. “Professor, I get the impression that you know something about Bellatrix that I don’t”

“On the contrary Hermione, I know much less about her than you do.” Dumbledore replied brightly, seemingly unconcerned about the gentle accusation that had been sent his way. “But I do have many worries about the direction that Miss Black’s life will take. We are on the verge of war and soon we will all be forced to make a decision about which side we stand on. I know with absolute certainty which side the Black family support but I am not as certain that Bellatrix’s heart lies in the same place.”

Hermione almost snorted at Dumbledore’s assessment of Bellatrix Lestrange, if there was one thing she was sure of it was that the woman’s heart lay with Voldemort. “I am sure this does not happen often, but you are wrong Sir. Bellatrix is very firmly on the side of the darkness, there is no uncertainty.”

“Perhaps in your time.” Dumbledore tilted his head and brought his hand up to stroke his beard pensively. “But tell me honestly, do you believe that the Bellatrix you have met here is the same one you once knew.”

“No Sir.” Hermione answered carefully, her mind drifting as she realised that at some point she had started to think of Bellatrix Lestrange and her Bellatrix as two completely different people. Her Bellatrix, who lost herself to passionate rants about history. Her Bellatrix, who spent hours poring over books to perfect a potion. Her Bellatrix, who was so unlike Bellatrix Lestrange that she couldn’t imagine how they could be one in the same. And when the hell had she started thinking of the girl as _her_ Bellatrix. “She is very different. She is determined and ambitious and… quite exceptional really.”

“Yes, Bellatrix certainly personifies many of the best attributes of Slytherin House.” Dumbledore agreed with a warm smile. “Also like a true Slytherin she is fiercely loyal to those that she loves and I fear that this will lead to her blindly choosing the side of her family. She has always been desperate to make her father proud and despite being excessively accomplished in virtually every subject within Hogwarts she always seems to fall short of that goal.”

Hermione frowned at the unfairness of it all; Bellatrix was incredible at everything that she set her mind to. It should be easy for her family to be proud of the things that she did. “So you think that she will join Voldemort as a way of getting some recognition from her father?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore answered simply as he breathed a heavy sigh. “And to perhaps finally find somewhere that she fits in, that her talents can be truly celebrated. It is no secret that she is shunned by the other students, that the Professors are intimidated by her skills and that her parents despair of her unconventional way of doing things.”

“I wish I could tell you that your worries about Bellatrix’s future are unfounded.” Hermione spoke seriously as she subconsciously scratched at the scar on her arm. She thought about the woman that had fought alongside Voldemort, held up by him as a paragon of what a Death Eater should be. “But unfortunately I can’t put your fears to rest for you. My scar is obviously proof that she will take the path that you foresee.”

“I had accepted that, as much as I might have hoped otherwise, Miss Black would end up becoming a mighty enemy.” Dumbledore said as he rose from his armchair and strode over to the window to peer outside. “That is of course until you arrived in our midst.”

Hermione ran her hands over her face in annoyance over the old man’s cryptic comment. “I don’t understand what difference I make Sir.”

“You make all of the difference Hermione.” The headmaster stated as he turned away from the window to look at her again. “Because you are the difference for Bellatrix. You see her potential, you are not intimidated by her brilliance, you listen to her desires. Nobody else in that young woman’s life has ever done that before. You see _her_.”

“But Sir, it doesn’t matter how much I _see_ Bellatrix. I can’t do anything to change the path of Bellatrix’s life.” Hermione fought to keep the annoyance out of her voice; she couldn’t believe that she had let Dumbledore talk her into the corner that she was now backed into. “The rules say…”

“Miss Granger.” Dumbledore interrupted her before she could even get started with what was sure to have become a rant. “I don’t believe that you would be here, in 1969, if you were the kind of person that always adhered to the rules.”

“Well, no…no, I have been known to sidestep certain rules.” Hermione stuttered out as she pinched the bridge of her nose trying to fight off the beginnings of a headache. “But, no matter how much I might wish Bellatrix could be different, I cannot use my knowledge of the future to change her.”

“Why not?” Dumbledore asked innocently, when Hermione just stared at him open mouth and obviously exasperated, he carried on. “Do you believe in destiny Miss Granger?”

A frown marred Hermione’s features as she answered with a sigh. “I can’t say that I do Sir.”

“I am a great believer in destiny.” Dumbledore stated almost proudly. “I think that we do the universe a huge injustice if we chalk your arrival here up to a mere accident. I believe that you were meant to come here.”

“You think that I am part of some grand plan orchestrated by the universe?” Hermione asked incredulously. If she didn’t have so much respect for the man stood in front of her she would have got up and walked out of his office. She had come here to ask the man if she could go into Hogsmeade this weekend and had ended up struck discussing Bellatrix and _destiny_ of all things.

“Yes, I believe you are integral to a time loop.” The headmaster revealed, his face remained neutral as if he had simply informed the girl in front of him that the sky was indeed blue. “I know you are well versed in time travel so will have heard of such time loops. If my summation is correct you continue to return to this point in time over and over again and change the future each time that you do.”

“Like groundhog day?” Hermione muttered more to herself than the headmaster. She shook her head to try and clear the fog of utter confusion that had descended in her mind. “But I am not allowed to change the future Sir.”

Dumbledore smiled serenely, he looked like he was enjoying all of this far too much for Hermione’s liking. “You changed the future the second that you landed in Miss Bones and Miss McKinnon’s dorm room.”

“That was an accident though.” Hermione argued, attempting to not sound like a petulant child as she did so.

“Nothing is an accident Hermione.” Dumbledore pointed out with a chuckle at Hermione’s outraged expression. The girl looked as if she was about to tear her hair out.

“But it is unethical Sir.” Hermione tried to appeal to the headmaster’s logical mind. Although she was not sure that he was using his logical mind at all currently. “I cannot take Bellatrix’s free will away.”

“Is it any more unethical than allowing Bellatrix to waste her talents on furthering Tom Riddles cause?” The silver haired wizard asked with a slight crease to his brow now. “Let me pose it to you this way Hermione, would it be unethical to use what you know to save an innocent person?”

“Well…yes.. I mean no. Oh Merlin I have no idea what is right and wrong anymore.” Hermione almost wailed as she dropped her face into her hands before she continued in a muffled voice. “Either way, Bellatrix is not innocent.”

Dumbledore observed the young woman for a few moments as she composed herself, taking a few calming breaths before she sat up properly in her seat again. “Bellatrix Lestrange of 1998 may not be innocent. But what has Bellatrix Black of 1969 done wrong?”

“Nothing I suppose.” Hermione admitted reluctantly.

“She is simply a girl who is on the brink of being destroyed by the unfair expectations that are placed upon her shoulders. So what would be so unethical about saving an innocent girl from the wrong path?” Dumbledore asked, he had the look of a man who was about the make a breakthrough.

“Something just feels wrong Sir.” Hermione began as she started picking at her nails nervously, a habit she noticed she had picked up from the Slytherin girl in question. The concept of keeping the Bellatrix that she had begun to know and rather like was a very appealing one. But the one thing that had made her the angriest after the war had ended was the thought that she, Harry and Ron had been manipulated into doing somebody else’s will. Could she really with all good conscience do exactly the same to Bellatrix? But if she did attempt to influence the girl’s choices she would severely weaken Voldemort’s regime. She could save Neville a childhood of pain and his parents from a lifetime of insanity. She could stop little Teddy Lupin from being orphaned and Andromeda from losing her daughter. She could maybe even stop the Second Wizarding War all together and therefore save countless lives. But what would the cost be? The thing that upset Hermione the most about Bellatrix’s life was that she was answerable to everyone else’s plan for her existence, could Hermione really bring herself to be another person who decided for her? “The thing that bothers me the most is this one nagging question. Would I really be doing this for Bellatrix’s benefit or would it be for my own.”

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side and appeared to be mulling her comment over. “Perhaps Miss Granger, you are thinking about this the wrong way. Why does it have to be one way or the other? Why can’t this benefit you both?”


	9. Hogsmeade Village

It was well after nine on Saturday morning and uncharacteristically Hermione was still in bed. The other two girls from her dorm had got up early to excitedly get ready and have breakfast before the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Meanwhile Hermione had grumbled and thrown the pillow over her head to try and block out their incessant chatter, she didn’t see the point in getting up just to have to wander around the half empty castle on her own. After all of Dumbledore’s ridiculous conversations about destiny and how it was now somehow her responsibility to save Bellatrix from the clutches of Voldemort, she had forgotten altogether to ask him about going into the village. She didn’t really know why she was surprised about the expectation that Dumbledore had voiced, practically all of her life it seemed she had been responsible for someone. From eleven years old she had been responsible for making sure that Harry and Ron got all of their homework done and got to lessons on time, not to mention the small task of **keeping them alive.** And she wasn’t even eighteen by the time that the fate of the wizarding world was on her shoulders with her being expected to destroy a dark wizard who struck fear into the hearts of most grown adults. Merlin forbid that now she only be responsible for her own happiness. But no, clearly that was too trivial a matter for the _universe_ to be concerned with. It was everyone else’s happiness that mattered and she just had to be the one to facilitate it. _Always the bridesmaid and never the bride._ Hermione buried herself deeper into her pillows and pulled her covers further up over her head as she sighed morosely. The sound quickly morphed into a shriek of panic though as her newly adjusted blanket was unceremoniously dragged from around her body leaving her shocked and suddenly freezing.

“Rise and shine.” Bellatrix cackled as she grinned down at the brunette who had instinctively curled into the foetal position to protect herself from the sudden cold.

“For fucks sake Bellatrix!” Hermione launched to her feet at the sound of that irritatingly familiar voice and glared daggers at the raven haired girl who looked like she could not be enjoying herself more. “How the hell do you keep getting into my bedroom? You aren’t in Ravenclaw; you shouldn’t even be able to get past the door.”

Bellatrix wanted to answer, she wanted to come up with some smart arse response… but she couldn’t. Her mind was a blank mush, like putty that she would have to try and mould back into some kind of rational shape before she could figure out how to form words again. The only thing that seemed to still be functioning right now was her eyes, which were currently attempting to take in as much of the creamy skin that was exposed in Hermione’s pyjama clad state as possible. She was wearing a pale blue, long sleeved cotton top that was cut in a deep V showing the top of her cleavage and striped shorts that stopped mid-thigh. Bellatrix really didn’t want to be a creep but her stupid mind seemed to have zeroed in on the sight of Hermione’s nipples straining against the fabric of her top due to the low temperature in the room. She coughed suddenly, chocking on the excess amount of saliva that had collected in her mouth. The action seemed to kick her brain back into gear and she quickly, and somewhat reluctantly, spun around so that she had her back to the inappropriately dressed girl. “Those riddles are hardly going to keep me out.”

“What are you doing here Bellatrix?” Hermione almost shouted, the shock and surprise of her rude awakening causing the volume of her voice to rise. Her heartrate was going wild and she could hear her pulse in her ears. She absolutely hated surprises.

“I’m here to take you to Hogsmeade.” Bellatrix forced out in a strained voice as she swallowed thickly, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to clear the memory of Hermione’s body from her mind. She was losing the battle miserably though as imprinted onto her eyelids was the image of the girl’s chest covered only in a thin layer of cotton.

“We have had this conversation twice already this week.” Hermione huffed irritably as she stared at the back of Bellatrix’s head. The girl had attempted to pile her curls into a messy topknot but had missed a few stands out at the base of her skull. Hermione was struck by how endearing she found it that Bellatrix tried so hard to tame her unruly tendrils but always just missed the mark. **No!** She was mad at her right now she was not supposed to be finding her ineptitudes charming; she shook off that distracting thought before continuing more calmly. “I can’t go to Hogsmeade. I don’t have a signed consent form.”

Bellatrix sighed concentrating on her racing heart, waiting for it to slow down a little before she spoke. “It may be hard for you to believe but I am not an idiot. I remember that you don’t have your consent form signed. We are going to work around that.”

“Work around it?” Hermione questioned incredulously, her voice shrill again. She took a step towards Bellatrix, grabbed her arm and spun her around so that she was facing her once more. Still the black haired girl refused to look at her though, instead she had her chin lifted and her eyes were skimming the ceiling. Hermione frowned at Bellatrix’s sudden unexplained awkwardness and crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously.

“Yes.” Bellatrix replied tightly, the tendons in her neck showing as her body filled with tension. She chanced a glance back at Hermione but it was a mistake, when the girl had crossed her arms it had hitched her top up. Only an inch, but it was enough to show a sliver of perfect skin at her hip, she felt a need to reach out and touch it flare up inside her. She looked away sharply, flicking her eyes over to the rumpled sheets of Hermione’s bed. She thought it would be safe to be looking at something as innocuous as a bed. She was wrong though, very very wrong because the sight of the tousled bedding brought images of Hermione in bed to mind that she just could not deal with right now. “I have a plan.”

Hermione groaned and rubbed her forehead impatiently as she dropped to sit on the edge. “Why do I have the feeling that I won’t like this plan?”

“Well you will have to get dressed to find out if that feeling is correct won’t you?” Bellatrix answered with a forced smirk as she tried to play the part of a normal, composed person. _Plus I won’t remember what the plan is if you don’t get dressed_ she thought as she focused on a spot on the wall instead of Hermione. She needed to get out of this room and to get some air desperately. “I’ll meet you in the fountain courtyard in ten minutes.”

Hermione wanted to argue, wanted to ask more questions about this mysterious plan but she didn’t get the chance to. As soon as Bellatrix had finished speaking she swept from the room and slammed the door behind her with a resounding thud.

* * *

“Are you insane?” Hermione whispered angrily into Bellatrix’s ear as the black haired girl towed her by the hand across the courtyard and towards the path leading down to Hogsmeade village.

Bellatrix grinned lightly enjoying the way Hermione’s breath ghosted across the shell of her ear. “I have been called insane a few times, yes.”

“You pulled me out of bed and demanded that I get dressed for this?” Hermione asked as she tugged on the hand that Bellatrix was using to propel her forward, causing the other girl to falter and turn to face her as she stopped in her tracks. “Your plan is to just walk past Professor Mcgonagall as if nothing is going on.”

“Exactly.” Bellatrix shrugged nonchalantly as she took a step in order to get them moving again.

Hermione pulled on Bellatrix’s hand again to stop her motion and keep them where they were. “It will never work, this whole thing is pointless.”

“That is where you’re wrong.” Bellatrix smiled conspiratorially as she pulled Hermione closer to her and grabbed the girls other hand too. “People only ever question if you are doing something wrong if you look like you are doing something wrong. All we have to do is walk past Mcgonagall, smile sweetly and not look back.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Hermione asked, a frown marring her features as she looked Bellatrix dead in the eye. Despite her rising panic her mind registered how long and thick the girl’s eyelashes were and how they framed her eyes in the most beautiful way.

“It will work.” Bellatrix squeezed her hands reassuringly, trying to stop the flush of, what she assumed to be, worry that had bloomed on Hermione’s cheeks. “But if it doesn’t, we will spend the afternoon doing something else. Maybe we could spend it teaching you how to fly a broom.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open causing Bellatrix to laugh heartily which in turn caused the Griffindor’s stomach to flutter like it always did. “I am not getting on a broom Bellatrix, no way. I’m a danger.”

“I don’t know about a danger but you certainly are dramatic.” Bellatrix shook her head and let go of one of Hermione’s hands, this time managing to move them on successfully towards the gates at the edge of the courtyard. “Anyway, let your desire to _not_ get on a broom serve as motivation for you to get this right.”

“No pressure then.” Hermione muttered grumpily as she tried to fix her face into a neutral expression, she attempted to clear her mind of worry and pay attention to the physical. She focused on the cool November breeze blowing through her hair, the cobbles under her feet as she walked, the way that Bellatrix’s hand fit perfectly into hers. She let the pad of her thumb rub over the delicate, soft skin she found there and smiled internally at the way the action caused the girl to squeeze her fingers almost imperceptibly. She took a slight step closer to Bellatrix so their shoulders bumped together as they walked, she enjoyed the feel of the girl’s body heat radiating through her robes.

“Miss Ross.” A distinct Scottish voice called out, shaking Hermione out of her contemplations. When she looked around she realised that they had made it out of the courtyard and part of the way down the path towards Hogsmeade. “A word please.”

Bellatrix leaned close to Hermione to whisper in her ear. “Remember, you are doing nothing wrong.” She squeezed her hand once before she stalked off to flop herself down on a nearby boulder and await the girl’s return.

Bellatrix’s sudden proximity to her face paired with the invading scent of Jasmine and cedar wood sent a pleasant shiver down Hermione’s spine. She took a moment to fix her features and square her shoulders before setting off towards the older woman. “Yes Professor, is everything ok?”

“Are you planning to go into the village today Hermione?” Mcgonagall enquired, with the tone of a woman who already knew the answer to her questions.

“Well…yes...yes Professor. I was going to, if that’s ok, of course.” Hermione stuttered, she mentally face palmed over her utter awkwardness, so much for acting like she was doing nothing wrong.

Mcgonagall eyed up the girl in front of her for a second, her face giving away nothing at all. “You know as a nineteen year old you are technically considered an adult. So you do not have to actually ask me if you can go into Hogsmeade. You are free to come and go from the castle as you please.”

“I…well….” Hermione rambled, not really sure what the Scottish witch was suggesting but knowing she was shooting for something.

“But in the interest of keeping your story believable.” Mcgonagall intoned, effectively ending anymore blathering that Hermione was about to do. “It would perhaps be best that you at least pretended to follow the rules. And the rules say that only students with _permission_ can visit Hogsmeade.”

“Ok, I understand Professor.” Hermione said in a small voice, her shoulders hunching in shame slightly at having tried to deceive the woman she respected so greatly. “I’m sorry.”

Mcgonagall smiled despite herself at the girl’s downcast demeanour and shook her head; she pulled a small roll of parchment out of one of the inside pockets of her robes. She unfurled it and Hermione could see her name, well _Hermione Ross,_ penned neatly across the top of the document. She produced a quill from another pocket in her robe and scrawled her loopy signature along the bottom of the scroll. “Since I am now your legal guardian, I am able to give you that permission.”

Hermione reached out slowly to take the offered parchment from Mcgonagall, she looked up at the woman with a warm smile. “Thank you Professor.”

“You’re welcome, but in future Hermione.” Mcgonagall said, a hint of hardness creeping into her voice again as she caught the girl’s eye. “Anything that you want, you need only to _ask_.”

Hermione nodded her understanding before turning away and heading over to where Bellatrix was waiting for her. The Slytherin was impatiently picking at some moss on the side of the boulder that she was sitting on, a frown creasing her brow. When she heard Hermione approaching she jumped to her feet and demanded, “What did she want?”

“She signed my consent form.” Hermione beamed as she held out the parchment for Bellatrix to read.

Bellatrix hummed as her eyes scanned the scroll that Hermione had rammed in her face, she looked past it to smirk devilishly at the other girl. “Something isn’t quite as fun about all of this now that we aren’t breaking any rules.”

“Oh shut up Bellatrix.” Hermione shoved the black haired witch’s shoulder, causing her to chuckle and smirk even wider. “Now come on, show me this wonderful village I have heard so much about.”

* * *

Bellatrix had begun her tour of the village at the ruins of the Hengist Fortress, named after the founder of Hogsmeade; it had been the Goblin’s stronghold during the Rebellion. What was left of the building seemed to stand in spite of itself. One wall was all that remained complete; the rest of the brick work had crumbled away over time leaving only a scar on the floor to show where it once stood. Hermione had noticed that the ruins were in exactly the same position that the Shrieking Shack would inhabit during her time at Hogwarts. Of course the building was not there now, Remus Lupin was not attending Hogwarts yet so it was not required to hide his monthly transformations into the werewolf. They spent some time there while Bellatrix explained how the Goblin’s had taken control of the fort and barricaded themselves inside using powerful wards. She also revealed a rumour that the Goblins had begun to tunnel under the Fortress and towards Hogwarts grounds, but so far evidence of this tunnel had not been found.

Their next stop was a Goblin war cemetery, Hermione had no idea it even existed but then that wasn’t surprising considering the effort it had taken to get there. It had taken a great deal of convincing to get the bushy haired witch to creep across the Hogwarts Express tracks, Bellatrix had assured her that no trains travelled the line during term time and she had been unable to deny the spark of excitement in the Slytherin’s eyes. The girl seemed to be enjoying herself a lot more now that they were doing something that broke some rule or another. After risking the railway track they then had to scale a small fence in order to get into the neighbouring field before scrambling up a steep and somewhat damp slope. Hermione had slipped so many times that Bellatrix had eventually taken hold of her hand and dragged her, rather unceremoniously, to the top of the little hill. Once at the top the girls found themselves in a small copse of trees that looked rather unremarkable until Bellatrix uttered a few words in a harsh guttural language that Hermione assumed was Old Goblin. When she had finished speaking the trees seemed to disappear around them as if they had always been a mirage. In their place stood rows upon rows of white slabs each with a collection of runes intricately engraved into them. Bellatrix hadn’t spoken while they stood amongst the graves; she had simply allowed them to take in the poignancy of the setting and think about how right it felt to stand there with their bodies so close and their fingers interlocked. After they had left the Goblin Cemetery Bellatrix explained to Hermione that the people of Hogsmeade had buried the dead Goblins on the hill as a mark of respect. Some of the surviving Goblins had come along later on to add the headstones and the protective enchantments around the little woodland.

The final place that Bellatrix had directed Hermione to was the Three Broomsticks, the location rumoured to be the wizard headquarters for the Rebellion. The Slytherin pointed out as they entered that there was no actual proof of this anywhere but it was one of the only buildings in the village that was old enough to have been around in 1612. Hermione’s eyes scanned the paintings on the old walls as she slipped into one of the pub’s cosy booths opposite Bellatrix. She slid one of the goblets of Butterbeer she had just purchased across the table to the Slytherin. “Thank you for today Bella, I had so much fun discovering Hogsmeade with you.”

Bellatrix’s heart fluttered at the other girl’s use of her nickname, it slipped out so infrequently that she found herself cherishing the times that it did somehow. “You’re sure you wouldn’t have enjoyed looking around the shops more than this?” The Slytherin asked with a hint of nervousness in her voice as she fingered the condensation on the side of her glass.

The vulnerability that Bellatrix seemed to show around her intrigued Hermione greatly, this was a side of the girl that she was sure few people got to see. She seemed to fight so hard to make the world believe that she was cold, as she had put it once before, so why was Bellatrix so free with lowering her defences around her? They didn’t know each other that well really and yet they seemed to share so much with one another. Bellatrix even seemed able to pry information out of Hermione that she didn’t intend to share at all. Where did their connection come from? Was it because they were both so academic? Was it because the Slytherin matched her fire and passion rather than mocked like the boys had always done? Was it because the brunette was always on the lookout for a hint of the other Bellatrix within this girl? Or was it because of Dumbledore’s theory on _destiny_? At times like these where Bellatrix’s mask of indifference seemed to slip and she looked at Hermione as though she was pleading with her for reassurance, there was simply no trace of the Death Eater what so ever. What was most worrisome for the bushy haired witch though was the reaction this open Bellatrix seemed to elicit within her. It made her heart feel like it was swelling in her chest and all she wanted to do was pull the girl to her and… do what she didn’t know, or didn’t want to think about. She settled for reaching across the table and laying her hand reassuringly on top of Bellatrix’s. “I have been in those shops more times than I can count, being with you was…lovely.”

Bellatrix smiled for a second but her expression quickly changed to a dark scowl as her eyes flickered over Hermione’s face. “How have you been to those shops more times than you can count? You have barely been here two months.”

Hermione’s mouth went instantly dry and she retracted her hand from on top of Bellatrix’s as though she had been stung. She had been so consumed with thoughts of the raven haired witch that she had totally forgotten where she was or more prudently w _hen_ she was. “I didn’t mean I had been in these shops.” She scrambled, shaking her head to clear the panic. “But I have been in countless shops just like them. They do have sweet shops in France you know.”

Bellatrix’s scowl lightened slightly but she still seemed to be scrutinising Hermione, it felt as if she was actually looking for chinks in her armour. “Why don’t you have a French accent?”

“My parents are British but moved to Liechtenstein when I was a child; my Dad got a job in their Ministry. We have moved around Europe my entire life.” Hermione lied smoothly, she had thought about this little hole in her tale, thankfully, and had a good excuse in her back pocket. “We only moved to France when I started attending Beauxbatons.”

“What does your Father do in the Ministry?” Bellatrix continued her line of inquisition, taking full advantage of the fact that for some reason Hermione seemed willing to talk about her life for a change.

Hermione smiled softly as, again, she was asked a question that she was prepared for and she knew would kill this conversation dead in the water. She didn’t want to talk about herself, she hated constantly having to lie to Bellatrix. “He’s an unspeakable.”

Bellatrix hummed in surprise, obviously impressed by Hermione’s imaginary father’s job. “That must be such an interesting job.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Hermione shrugged dismissively as she smirked a little. “As an unspeakable he doesn’t really speak about it much.”

Bellatrix snorted and flicked some of the moisture that was on her fingers from her Butterbeer glass in Hermione’s direction. “Shut up Ross.” Her face was alight with mirth and that smirk that drove Hermione crazy settled on her features.

Hermione scooped some of the froth from the top of her own drink and flicked that at Bellatrix in retaliation. The girl shrieked as the foam landed on her brow and threatened to drip into her eye. “Ooops” The brunette mocked as she tried unsuccessfully to control her laughter as Bellatrix wiped furiously at her face with the sleeve of her robes.

Bellatrix looked up as she heard Hermione’s hearty bell like laughter peel through the air towards her. She wanted to throw one of her signature glares at the girl for daring to throw the froth in her face but the sound of her laugh stopped that in its tracks. Bellatrix had heard Hermione chuckle and giggle, but never laugh this fully. She noticed how the brunette’s cheeks glowed an appealing soft pink, her eyes twinkled with life and her nose scrunched up adorably when she laughed like this. As far as she was concerned, right now, the girl was as close to perfection as she had ever seen. “Hermione I…” she began, Merlin only knew what she was going to say because her mind seemed to have run away with her mouth, when she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Both girls looked away from each other, any laughter dying as they noticed the arrogant looking Gryffindor boy stood at the end of their table. He had dark copper hair that could almost pass for brown in the right light and a long face that some could think was attractive if they were so inclined. “Hello.” he grinned lecherously at Hermione as he spoke, the word almost oozing from his throat. “I’m Bilius Weasley. I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting yet.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the boy revealed his name; this was Ron’s uncle, the man he would be named after. She had heard funny tales about the person he would become, but right now he just seemed like a total creep and she wanted him to leave… quickly. “Hermione Ross.” She informed him simply, hoping that her reluctance to engage with him would be enough to get rid of him.

“You haven’t been here long have you?” Bilius continued, he was seemingly unaware of Hermione’s discomfort and Bellatrix’s simmering anger. Hermione couldn’t believe that this conceited boy could possibly be the younger brother of the laid back and unassuming Arthur Weasley,

“No, I only started at the beginning of the school year.” Hermione answered as she smiled tightly and turned her attention back to Bellatrix who raised her eyebrows incredulously at her.

Bilius nodded as if he was approving of the answer that she had given, the action caused a flicker of anger within Hermione that she couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was because the boy reminded her of Cormac McLaggen. “And you’re a seventh year aren’t you?”

Hermione snapped her head back towards the boy, a frown creasing her brow delicately. “You seem to know a lot of information about me already.” She snapped, Bilius’ smile faltered for a millisecond but he managed to keep his composure. “So why did you need to come over and ask me questions that you already know the answer to?”

Bellatrix chuckled softly at Hermione’s response but this was a mistake. “Shut up Black.” Bilius’ smile finally dropped as he snarled through his teeth in a voice filled with venom. He transformed from a seemingly harmless, if not annoying, boy into something much more vicious. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at. I came over here to rescue this poor girl from you and all of your… pureblood poison.”

Hermione was absolutely livid; Bellatrix had been sitting there minding her own business, doing absolutely nothing wrong and this boy was attacking her. He had come over here to their table and acted like a smarmy prat, Hermione was the one who had been rude to the boy, she was the one who had dented his ego and yet Bellatrix was the one that he had gone after. Well if he thought that the Slytherin was an easy target because of who she was and the general consensus around the school that she was this evil being then he had another thing coming. She was not going to let anyone speak to Bellatrix that way again. She deserved respect as much as anybody else; no family name changed that right. Yes, Hermione knew what Bellatrix was capable of; the anger, the vindictiveness, the evilness. In that state it was easy to make her into the hated villain of the tale. But here she sat; calm, composed… _innocent._ “Who the hell do you think you are?” she growled as she stood up out of the booth seating so that she was almost nose to nose with the boy. “How dare you come over here, where we were having a perfectly lovely time, and insult Bellatrix for no reason.”

Bilius took a small step backwards but the anger in his features remained. “You have no idea who she is.” He spat as his eyes flicked over to a thoroughly shocked Bellatrix who was trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Hermione had jumped to her defence so quickly.

“You have no idea what I know about her.” Hermione countered as she fought the urge to reach into her robes and hex this idiot into next week. “And your notion that I would somehow need rescuing from the wicked witch of the west over here is pathetic. Why don’t you go and find some other girl who might actually find your stupid knight in shining armour act impressive.”

Bilius shook his head as his lip curled into a look of disgust. “Do you know what? You should continue to spend time with Bellatrix. You two are suited to each other, you are both huge bitches.”

“Thank you for your suggestion.” Hermione replied with a voice dripping with sarcasm. “I think I will stick with Bellatrix now that I know, thanks to you, how tragic my other options for companionship are.”

Bilius muttered something that sounded distinctly like ‘fuck you’ before spinning on his heel and marching back to his fellow Gryffindors, who had been watching the exchange with rapt interest. He flopped back down into his seat looking defeated and a round of laughter rang out amongst his friends. Hermione slipped smoothly back into the booth and picked up her Butterbeer to try and hide the shaking of her hands and to give her somewhere to focus her attention other than on the other witch. She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the way she had reacted to that boy, but the second he had gone after Bellatrix she had lost control. She had been filled with a desire to protect the girl. To stand up and try to shield her from the ugliness in the world that Hermione feared would change her from the determined, driven and at times gentle person in front of her into the heartless Death Eater

Bellatrix hummed as if she was considering something important causing Hermione to look up cautiously from her careful examination of the bubbles in her Butterbeer. “The wicked witch of the west.” The girl said with a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I have been called a great many things in my time, but that is officially a first.”

A smile slipped onto Hermione’s features and she breathed a heavy sigh, relief washing over her that Bellatrix didn’t seem mad at her reaction to the Weasley. “You’re only missing the green skin.”

Bellatrix laughed lightly as she reached across the table and gently took Hermione’s hand, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t need it Bellatrix. I know you can stand up for yourself. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything but…” Hermione’s ramble was cut short by Bellatrix releasing her hand and instead reaching up to cup her cheek gently.

“I don’t need you to be sorry Hermione.” Bellatrix spoke softly as her thumb absentmindedly caressed the other girl’s skin. “People aren’t normally kind to me, it’s a nice change.”

“I hate that.” Hermione said with a broken voice as she covered Bellatrix’s hand with her own and leant into the warmth of her touch. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“We don’t always get treated the way that we deserve.” Bellatrix replied sadly as she revelled in the comfort that being near to Hermione afforded her. “Do you want to head back to the castle?”

“Yeah.” Hermione nodded as she reluctantly let Bellatrix take her hand back and moved to climb out of the booth.

* * *

Despite having spent the entire day together Hermione still found herself on her way up to the Astronomy Tower to meet Bellatrix once she was done with dinner. She traipsed up the winding staircase to the top of the tower slowly, exhausted from her day venturing around Hogsmeade. She knew that the sensible choice would be to get an early night so that she could be up promptly tomorrow to catch up on her homework. But the allure of spending just a little bit more time with Bellatrix was just too great. A smile slipped onto her face as she reached the top of the staircase and looked out of the doorway, the Slytherin was sat on the edge of the turret with her legs crossed engrossed in a book. Her finger glided across the page at as it guided her reading and Hermione had to suppress a shiver as an errant thought about other things her fingers could glide across filled her mind. The girl’s hair was loose now, having been released from its topknot, and it fell in waves across her shoulder and down her back creating paths across her body for amber eyes to follow. The inky blackness seemed to absorb the light from the stars above her so that it shone like a celestial beauty all of its own. The sight was captivating and Hermione almost didn’t want to disturb it, but knowing she couldn't play voyeur all evening she cleared her throat gently to make her presence known.

“Hermione.” Bellatrix almost jumped out of her skin as she fumbled with the book she was holding, slamming it shut before placing it on the floor next to her and subtly covering it with the fabric of her robes. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Of course you didn’t, you were too lost in your book.” Hermione smiled warmly at the girl before settling next to her making sure that they were close enough that their knees touched. “What were you reading?”

“Nothing” Bellatrix snapped as she snatched the book away from Hermione when she reached for it and placed in on her other side so that it could not be seen.

Hermione frowned at Bellatrix’s sudden caginess and a sense of anxiety rose unchecked within her. What could she be reading that she wanted to keep so private? Was it something she shouldn’t be reading, something dark? “You were obviously reading something.”

“Ok, maybe I was.” Bellatrix replied haughtily as she raised her chin and refused to look at Hermione. “But not everything I do is your business you know?”

“Bellatrix.” Hermione almost chastised as she tried to get her head around the version of the girl that she had walked in on. She had been warm and engaging all day, keeping her close, holding her hand and now she seemed like the last thing she wanted was to be around her. “I only asked you about a book, there’s no need to be so…mean.”

Bellatrix sighed heavily as she finally looked at Hermione with heavy, guilt filled eyes. “It was only this.” She picked up the book that she had tried so hard to hide and handed it to the bushy haired witch. “I was just embarrassed that you had caught me reading it. We both know I am shit at dealing with my emotions, I never intend to be mean.”

Hermione nodded and smiled softly at the Slytherin, accepting that an acknowledgement was as near to an apology as she was going to get. “Edgar Allan Poe.” She read the name that was embossed in gold letters into the black leather of the book. “But why do you need to be embarrassed about reading this?”

“Well you know, because it’s…muggle.” Bellatrix shrugged as she looked away from Hermione again and began picking at her nails, her trademark nervous tell.

“What does it matter if it’s muggle?” Hermione barked, Bellatrix’s insinuation that something muggle was anything to be ashamed of angering her. She had spent all day being slowly persuaded that the pureblood ideals that _Bellatrix Lestrange_ prided were not something that young Bellatrix even considered. She had almost convinced herself that those stupid beliefs didn’t exist in this girl at all, the realisation that she was wrong stung.

“Most witches and wizards don’t respect muggle literature, they think it is pedestrian.” Bellatrix said calmly, ignoring Hermione’s riled demeanour all together as her focus remained on her nails. “Plus my parents would kill me if they ever found out that I had spent their money on something muggle.”

“But you don’t care that he was a muggle author?” Hermione asked, wanting to fan the spark of hope that had flickered to life when Bellatrix had not mentioned any distaste of her own towards the muggle world.

Bellatrix shook her head and watched tentatively as Hermione thumbed the well-worn leaves of the book, pausing when she reached the page with the corner turned over. “That’s my favourite poem.” She supplied before she could be asked, the girl’s eyes swept over the words on the page and a light crease appeared between her brows. “The best part is the beginning; let me read it to you?”

“I’d like that.” Hermione replied as she handed the book delicately to Bellatrix, feeling a tremor as their hands brushed against each other inadvertently.

Bellatrix smiled timidly and cleared her throat before beginning to read from the book in a calm, clear and practiced voice. “From childhood's hour I have not been as others were; I have not seen as others saw;” She looked up at Hermione shyly through her dark, thick lashes and her cheeks had taken on a very slight pinkness. “I could not bring my passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken my sorrow; I could not awaken my heart to joy at the same tone. And all I lov’d; I lov’d alone.” She paused the poem there, closing the book over before slipping it safely into an inside pocket in her robes. Her gaze fluttered back up to Hermione who was watching her as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world, as though she were some puzzle to unravel. It made her feel nervous and giddy all at once. “From the first time I read those lines I have loved that poem. I remember during my childhood feeling the loneliness that it talks about. Despite the fact that I had my parents and my sisters around me I have never felt like I fit in with them, I thought it was something that was wrong with me. But when I read that poem I realised that it’s not that at all, it’s because I have always seen the world differently to them.”

“How do you see the world?” Hermione asked as she covered Bellatrix’s hand affectionately. She wasn’t sure whether the action was to reassure the black haired witch or to ground her in preparation for the answer, she had no idea if she was going to like it.

“I see the world as this cage that I’m trapped in, held captive by stupid pureblood societal rules and my parents expectations of me.” Bellatrix revealed as she squeezed Hermione’s fingers trying to draw some strength from the action. She didn’t know why this girl made her feel so safe or why she was being so open about her feelings with her, but something about her just made it all so easy.

Hermione thought about what Bellatrix had just said; there was no freedom for the girl really, she was only ever faced with constant obligations. Hadn’t it only been this morning that she herself had been feeling exactly the same way; that she was trapped by all of the responsibilities dropped heavily on to her shoulders? Both of them lived in a reality where their happiness had to come second to what everyone else wanted. “Maybe you are not so alone in the way that you see the world Bella. I may not have the same problems as you but I certainly don’t feel free.”

Bellatrix turned so that she was facing Hermione more fully; there was a fiery intensity in her eyes as she spoke. “I’m going to protect you all, my sisters and you, from the unfairness in this world. There has to be another way to live this life.”

Again, like so many weeks ago, the innocent surety of Bellatrix’s words made Hermione’s heart flutter with a sudden wave of affection. She looked at the girl in front of her with her mouth set in determination and her eyes defiant and the word beautiful bubbled to the forefront of her mind. Hermione had heard tales of Bellatrix’s beauty in her youth, but part of her had believed that a monster like _Bellatrix Lestrange_ could not be beautiful. But this girl was more than beautiful, she was radiant and she was enthralling. Hermione found herself desperately wanting to reach out a touch the girl, wanting to get her hands lost in the silky mess of curls, to trace her fingers across the girl’s sharp jaw line; to feel the cushiony softness of her pink lips under the pad of her thumb. “Ho…how are you going to protect us?” Hermione stuttered in a voice barely above a dream like whisper, her gaze flicking from Bellatrix’s eyes to her lips.

“Well, I’ve already made a start.” Bellatrix replied quietly as she subconsciously shuffled closer to Hermione. “My parents send my sisters and I to elocution and etiquette lessons once a month. They teach us how to talk properly, how to reach for a wine glass correctly when at the dinner table, how to make sure that you gain attention when you enter a room. All of it is done so that we can show that we are women of good breeding. All of it is done to make us appear that we have a few brain cells in our heads but not so many that we might threaten the male ego. Essentially all of it is done so that when the time comes we will attract, what our parents deem to be, the right kind of man.”

“Why couldn’t you choose the right kind of man for yourselves?” Hermione asked angrily, she couldn’t believe that pureblood parents groomed their children for marriage from so early on in their lives. She only realised how angry this had made her when Bellatrix wiggled the fingers that were held too tightly in her hand.

“Because there can be no risk of love in a pureblood marriage. That would muddy the waters far too much.” Bellatrix laughed humourlessly as she dipped her head and began picking at bits of lint on her skirt with her free hand. “As the oldest sister it is my job to ensure that Andie and Cissy behave in a way that is fitting for a Black when they are outside of my parents watch. But instead of telling them to sit up straighter at the dinner table and reminding them that they should only ever laugh gently behind their hand, I tell them to be women that people will fear.”

A prickle of worry crept up Hermione’s spine at the idea that Bellatrix might be coaching her sisters into something dark. “How do you want people to fear them?”

“I have been teaching Cissy Occlumency and Legilimency, she has a real talent for it. Mother feared for a time the she may be telepathic but she is just so naturally skilled at Legilimency that she cannot control when she hears people’s thoughts. She has been able to read mine and Andie’s minds since she was about three but I have been teaching her how to control it.” Bellatrix smiled softly as she talked about her little sister and Hermione noticed the hint of pride in her voice when she mentioned her talents. “Cissy can now slip into your mind without you even knowing she is there and she is closed off like a steel trap if you try to use Occlumency on her. She will either be someone’s biggest ally or their biggest threat because nothing is more terrifying than someone who knows more than you."

“So you’re teaching her how to protect herself?” Hermione questioned rhetorically as she observed Bellatrix, the girl really did amaze her with her thinking sometimes. “I like that idea.”

Bellatrix looked away from Hermione felling a little bit self-conscious under the girl’s gaze again. She tried to tuck some hair behind her ear to give her something to do but of course her feral curls wouldn’t behave and they just slipped back into her face. She jumped a little when Hermione reached out to re-tuck the fallen lock behind her ear more successfully; the girl’s hand lingered in her hair for a few seconds and then retreated. Bellatrix took a shaky breath before she attempted to speak. “I have arranged duelling lessons for Andromeda with Professor Jigger. She is a truly incredible duellist, the best I have ever seen. But she needed some help to tighten things up. Now she can beat Jigger himself, he thinks she should become an Auror.”

“Why is it so important that she can duel?” Hermione asked with a hint of worry. Even though she knew there was no chance that Andromeda would side with the Death Eaters, the thought that she may at one point have been trained up for their use was unsettling.

“There will come a time when Andie will leave our family, her heart is too good to be trapped with us lot.” Bellatrix said in a sad tone, her gaze slipping from Hermione’s face. She didn’t want her to see just how much the thought of having to live without Andromeda broke her heart. “My father will go after her when she leaves, his reputation will demand he do so, but if he ever finds her he will not stand a chance against her. She will be a force to be reckoned with.”

“And what about you?” Hermione reached out and slipped two fingers under the other girl’s chin, forcing her to look at her. She noticed how Bellatrix’s eyes were shimmering with tears she had fought to contain. What was it about this girl that made her want to fix her when she looked so broken? Hermione fought the urge to pull the girl into a hug and tell her that everything was going to be ok because she was going to protect her. She knew it would be a lie anyway because if she went along with Dumbledore’s plan she would just be another person placing obligations in front of her, another person keeping her caged.

“I think I will just have to take the hit.” Bellatrix tried to shrug off the comment as if it was nothing but she knew it looked half hearted. She could feel her emotions getting the better of her and she hated it, she felt smothered by the weight of them. She extracted herself from Hermione’s hold on her hand and the closeness of her body to stand up and lean over the railing of the turret. She took large gulps of air to try and quell her sadness and replace it like she always did with anger before snapping. “I’ll attend all of the balls where I have to parade around in a fancy dress that shows off my assets and I will smile sweetly in all the right places. Then I’ll be auctioned off by my father and I will get married to someone that I will never be able to love.”

Hermione stood up cautiously and approached the railing too not getting to close to Bellatrix just yet, knowing that the girl needed a second to have some physical space. “Why do you have to do any of those things though?”

“I have to do it because it will distract my parents long enough to allow my sisters to escape.” Bellatrix revealed, her voice levelling out somewhat. “I can live that life if I know that my sisters are free from the same fate.”

“Do you really think that you could be happy living with someone that you despise as his housewife and the mother to his heir?” Hermione, asked. She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, not at Bellatrix being a housewife or mother but at the thought of her being married to someone else. If this had been any other time, if the girl wasn’t stood so close and looking so broken, she would have over analysed that thought. But right now the only thing that mattered was Bellatrix. “That life would drive you crazy.”

“I don’t believe that I will be happy, I would be a fool to think that I could be. But I realised a long time ago that I would have to sacrifice my own happiness so that my sisters never have to.” Bellatrix answered, she finally felt like she had composed herself enough to look back at Hermione again. She couldn’t figure out the look that was in the other girl’s eyes, it was almost like longing. Or maybe that was just in her own mind. “They have spoken about having their own families and their own children since we were children ourselves. I could not live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to make sure that they can have that, even if it means that I will miss out on that chance.”

Hermione thought about what the girl had just said, she had always assumed that Bellatrix had never had children because she was too busy with her work for Voldemort. It had never occurred to her that the woman’s lack of children could have been out of choice, a choice she had made as a teenager. “You don’t want children at all?”

“I will not bring something so innocent into a life like mine, subjected to unrealistic expectations every single day. I will not bring my own children into a loveless, dysfunctional marriage. Children are supposed to be a creation of love not a symbol of someone’s wealth and status; I will not be part of perpetuating that bullshit.” Bellatrix spoke passionate as she stared fiercely into Hermione’s eyes, taking a subconscious step closer to her. Needing the comfort that being near to her afforded. “In a dream world I would like to have my own children. I have spent my life so devoid of love from anybody but my sisters and yet I feel as though I have so much of it pent up inside me. It would be nice to have somebody to share that with, to finally feel….wanted.”


End file.
